I'm In Here
by NikonFriend
Summary: AU: After being separated from her younger brother by the foster system, Callie's life takes more than a few nasty turns. She's hopeless, she's broken, and she's given up. But when the past and present collide and Callie winds up in the back of a cop car three years after losing her younger brother, the world proves to be even more unpredictable than she ever thought
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, so I've had this story running through my mind recently, and I finally decided to start writing it. I'm just warning you, it's probably going to be a long story. It's an AU scenario, but I'm sure you've already figured that out by the description. Anyway, yeah, here ya go. I'll have another little note at the end of the chapter:**

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She hated drugs. Maybe it was because addiction -alcoholism- was what had gotten her where she was, or maybe it was just because she hated how they made her feel. She wasn't entirely sure _why_ she hated drugs, but she knew that she hated them. She also hated losing people, though, and so far in life she'd lost everyone she'd ever cared about. She also hated violence, but violence wasn't uncommon in her life. She also hated her life, but still, she was alive. So it didn't surprise her that drugs, something that she hated with a burning passion, had ended up being so frequent in her teen life. Pretty much everything that she'd ever hated had a way of biting her in the ass, and drugs didn't work any differently.

They made her sick, for one thing. They made her dizzy, and they made her feel out of control, a feeling that Callie didn't take to very warmly. While she'd never actually had much control in her life -while she should have been used to not having any control- she absolutely hated feeling that way. Life was a bitch, she knew that much, but she always wanted to have control on something -on herself. The drugs took that way. They made her feel like she didn't have any power, like she didn't have any say in what happened to and around her, and she couldn't stand it. It scared her, which ultimately always ended up making her feel sick with panic. The drugs didn't numb the pain, like everyone else said that they would. They just made her anxiety even more intense while they were in her system.

She had no way of avoiding them, though. She had no way of getting clean, or of dulling the effects. Her boyfriend, if she could even call him that, was a dealer, and he was involved in a gang, and he was pretty notorious around the neighborhood. He wasn't someone whom you wanted to mess with. He didn't have a conscience and he didn't have a heart. The only head that he used to think with was in his pants, and as charming as he could pretend to be around customers or girls, he had a dark side. In fact, he had multiple dark sides. He was layered, and unfortunately, Callie knew each and every layer. Most people who knew him well enough to know that he wasn't a good person had only ever seen the surface of what he was capable off. Maybe they'd seen him threaten strangers who had gotten in his way at a bar, or maybe they'd seen the wad of hundred dollar bills in his wallet that couldn't have gotten there legally. Callie had seen the much darker, more unsettling parts of him, though. She'd seen him when he was drunk -not just tipsy at the bar drunk, but _really_ drunk. The kind of drunk that only she had ever seen, because whenever it got that bad, he was always alone in the apartment with her, pissed out of his mind. One time, someone had knocked on the door while he was this wasted -it had been someone from the neighborhood who had come to complain about something relating to the drugs- and the son of a bitch had nearly beaten the poor bastard to death. Callie had been the one to step in before it could get too far, and by some miracle, she'd managed to convince her boyfriend to stop pummeling the guy. That night hadn't been anything compared to what Callie knew that he was capable of, though. She knew the darkest parts of him, and she knew that he wasn't someone that you'd want to mess with. She'd seen him in his darkest moments. She'd been the bearer of his abuse for a long time now. She'd seen the way he could get if someone pissed him off. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he'd killed someone before, or at least that he'd eventually kill someone in his life. He was the kind of guy that, if people knew half the shit that he'd done, you'd read about in the newspaper -not just the local newspaper, but nationwide newspapers. He'd beaten Callie countless times, and he'd threatened her life on multiple occasions as well. He'd made it perfectly clear that he was in charge and that he wasn't to be disobeyed.

So Callie knew better than to say no when he offered her drugs. She knew better than to try to stay clean, because doing so would probably just wind up getting her killed in the long run. She knew better than to try to leave, too, because her asshole of a boyfriend had plenty of connections and he'd kill her before he'd let her leave. So really, there was no way to avoid the drugs. There was no way to get sober, or to try to clean her act up. She was the only one to blame for it all, though. She'd dug that hole for herself, and if she couldn't get herself out of it, then that was her fault and she knew it.

"Hey, whore," a voice called from the next room in the apartment.

Callie rolled her eyes, biting her lip as she turned to look through the door way. Dan, her boyfriend, was in the next room with a couple of his buddies. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at the one who had called for her. He had a disgusting smirk on his face, and Dan and the others were just chuckling lightly, amused.

"What do you want, Jack?" Callie sighed, knowing that whatever it was, Jack was only talking to her to piss her off. Dan and his friends did that all the time, she was used to it, but it still pissed her off.

"Get me another beer, will ya?" He smirked as he held a joint at the edge of his mouth, knowing very well that Callie would do what he'd asked because she was practically a slave in the apartment. She did what Dan wanted, which meant that she did what his friends wanted.

Callie just bit her lip and held back a snarky comment as she stepped into the small kitchen. Empty beer bottles sat on the counter and Callie made a mental note to clean up later on. Dan, fortunately, wasn't too much of a neat freak, but she knew that he wouldn't be too happy if she just let the kitchen get trashed by him and his buddies. She opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of beer from inside the door.

She walked back into the room where Dan and his three friends were sitting around the coffee table. They were practically hot-boxing the apartment with how much they were smoking, and Callie just wished that they'd go somewhere else. Normally, she could tolerate them smoking in the apartment. Normally it wasn't _that_ big of a deal. But not today. This day, every year, was a bad day for her, and she just wished that those sons of bitches would take their damn drugs somewhere else.

"Here," she said more sharply than she should have, setting the drink down hard on the table. "There's your damn beer," she mumbled, turning to walk out of the room.

Everyone's smirks faded and the four addicts narrowed their eyes at the teen. Dan jutted out his jaw, looking at Callie with anger in his eyes.

"You wanna fix your attitude, Callie?" He asked in a low tone -a warning.

She just scoffed, taking a step forward to leave the room, even though she knew that ignoring him wasn't going to do her any good. She was just too pissed off and upset to care, though. There was too much on her mind, and in that moment, she didn't really care what Dan would say or do.

A dangerous silence fell over the room as Dan stood up and grabbed her arm tightly, stopping her from walking away, and Callie clenched her teeth, trying not to let him see that he was hurting her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not now at least.

"You look at me when I talk to you," he hissed tightening his grip as he spun her around so that she was facing her.

Callie just glared at him, jaw shut, and tugged her arm back a bit, hoping that he'd let go of her. She knew that he wouldn't do anything too bad while his friends were around. Sure, maybe later he would rough her up a bit, but the jackass was smart enough not to take it too far while there were people around to see it. All of his friends knew that Dan could be violent with her at times, but he knew better than to let them see just _how_ violent he could get.

"Let me _go_ , Dan," Callie growled, pulling her arm back. He didn't let go, though.

"You better watch yourself," he snapped back, his voice low so that only she could hear him. "You should know better than to disrespect me when we have company."

He let go of her, then, and she took a step back, biting her tongue as she looked him dangerously in the eyes. She came back to her senses, then. She knew better than to piss him off any more. It would only wind up getting her hurt worse. It wouldn't do her any good.

"Now apologize to Jack," Dan demanded, no room for argument in his tone.

Jack looked at her expectantly, and Callie turned her eyes toward him, biting the corner of her mouth. She had nothing to apologize for, really. After all, he'd been the one to call her a whore and demand that she get him a beer, all while puffing smoke in the sitting room of _her_ apartment. She shouldn't have had to apologize for being a little bit pissed off after that.

She had to do what Dan wanted, though.

"Sorry," Callie said flatly before turning around and rolling her eyes.

"I'll tell you what," Jack smirked, lifting the joint up to his mouth. "I"ll forgive you, but only if you take some of this."

He grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes, and held up a small pill that had been sitting on the table. Callie eyed it for a moment, then looked up at Jack to see if he was _actually_ serious. The wild look in his eyes and the sly grin were enough to tell her that he was. She looked to Dan, then, her eyes almost pleading as she didn't say anything.

"Go on," Dan nodded, now smirking along with the rest of his friends. "Two pills is all you gotta take. Then you can go back to looking at whatever shit pictures you took while you were out again."

Callie clenched her jaw for two reasons. One, because she _really_ didn't want to take the drugs, and two, because she couldn't stand the way Dan talked about her photography. Taking pictures was the only thing that she actually enjoyed in her life, and he took every opportunity that he could to tear her down for it.

"Dan, come on," she sighed after a moment, biting the corner of her mouth. "You know what happened the last time you guys made me take ecstasy."

And he did. He knew very well what kind of effects the drug had had on her. He knew that nothing good would come out of it, for her at least. Maybe he and his friends would get some enjoyment out of it, but she wouldn't.

"Take the pills, Callie," Dan replied, the warning tone in his voice betraying the smirk that was plastered onto his face.

"Dan," Callie tried again, her tone almost begging as she felt her heart rate begin to speed up.

She couldn't take the pills. Not after how badly things had gone the last time he and his buddies had shoved them down her throat. None of their drugs ever really had any sort of euphoric effect on her. There wasn't any reason for them to, really. Ecstasy was a whole other story, though. She'd only taken it once before, and it had been terrible. The panic had been worse than anything she'd felt with other drugs before. The nausea had been horrendous. The effects of the ecstasy had been extreme for her, and she didn't want to relive it all again.

She saw the flicker of fire in his eyes and the way his nose flared up. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. She'd already talked back to him. She'd already pissed him off. He wasn't going to let her get away with turning down the drugs as well.

Callie swallowed nervously before looking back at Jack, who still looked just as amused as ever.

"Fine," she spoke, her voice void of emotion as she held out her hand and clenched her teeth.

Jack chuckled, then placed two pills in her palm, knowing that he'd succeeded in whatever game he was trying to play. Callie shot one last look at Dan, who was now leaning back comfortably in the couch, a satisfied expression on his face. He nodded to a half-consumed bottle of beer in front of him and Callie knew exactly what he meant. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she reached down and grabbed the bottle, trying her hardest not to show that her hand was shaking. She tossed the pills into her mouth, then took a swig of the beer, swallowing the pills down with it.

"Happy now?" she muttered, turning and walking out of the room without another word.

Something bad was bound to happen. With the drugs, it always was.

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 **Okay, so that's the first chapter. It's pretty short compared to how most of the rest of the chapters will be to be honest, but It's just what I got written down today and I stopped there for a reason. This fic is probably gonna be kinda heavy at some points, and it is most definitely a hurt/comfort story in many aspects. It's also a story about "building" a family though, I guess. Oh, and there's no Brallie. Not romantically at least. Anyways, yeah. I've got the whole story mapped out in my mind and I can promise you that there will be a lot of angst and drama and stuff. If you have any questions or thoughts, please feel free to leave a review, as they are _very_ much appreciated. **

**Also, don't worry, just because I'm starting this story, it doesn't mean that I'm going to be any less invested in _In My Veins._ This story just something that's been going through my mind lately and I just had to get it written down.**

 **And one last thing: I don't know that any of you have noticed, but I typically title my stories with the name of a song that relates to the story, whether it's just a few lyrics or the entire song. "In My Veins" is a song by Andrew Belle, and "I'm in Here" is a song by Sia. I just felt like it was only right to mention that because personally I think that both artists deserve credit for their songs. They're both incredible writers.**

 **Again, please feel free to drop down a review so that I can know what you think! Thanks guys!**


	2. Chapter 2

Callie knew that it would take at least twenty minutes for the ecstasy to actually affect her. She knew what she should expect. First she'd get energetic. Her heart would race and she'd probably get abnormally happy, or ditsy. The drugs would cloud her judgement and she'd probably forget about how much she hated Dan. She'd probably wind up making out with him, and he'd probably wind up having sex with her in her drugged state -it wouldn't be the first time. Then after an hour or so, the high would die down, and she'd start overheating. She'd start sweating. Her skin would get itchy. Her mouth would feel dry. The headaches would start, along with the nausea, and the random chills. Then the confusion, and the paranoia, and the flashbacks, and the dizziness.

She knew what would happen, but she didn't know how to control it,

She was sitting in the bathroom. She'd locked herself in there, hoping that maybe she'd just be able to keep herself in there for the duration of time that the drugs had a hold on her. Maybe if she just stayed away from Dan, then she wouldn't make any advances toward him in her state. And if she stayed away, maybe he'd forget about her and he and his friends would go looking for her, knowing how she'd be. She wouldn't put it past them. Plus, maybe if she just stayed in the small room, then the effects wouldn't be too bad. Maybe she'd be able to control the anxiety, and the flashbacks.

The last time Dan had forced ecstasy down her throat, they'd been at some warehouse party that Dan had dragged her to. An 'associate' of his had wanted to meet him there, so the son of a bitch had brought Callie along with him, probably expecting that he'd get lucky with her that night. The real high had only lasted about half an hour for her, but she'd only taken one pill. Dan had still managed to make the best out of it, though. The drugs had made Callie a little more "out going" than usual, which Dan had loved, and while Callie could barely remember much of what had happened for the first half of the night, it wasn't hard for her to fill in the gaps. About an hour after taking the pill, though, Callie had started getting hit with the negative side effects. The paranoia had most definitely been the worst -she'd been convinced that she was being watched. Then she'd started remembering things that she'd usually been able to block out. Her life before her mother's death. Some of the worse foster homes that she'd been in. Her brother. It had all gone downhill from there. She'd gotten sick, Dan had gotten pissed that they'd left the party early so that she could go home to get better, and the last thing Callie remembered was when she'd passed out shortly after getting home.

If it was going to be anywhere near as bad as it had been then, then Callie definitely wanted to stay away from Dan and his buddies. And considering the fact that this time she'd taken _two_ pills, it was probably going to be a lot worse.

 _Breathe,_ she reminded herself as she felt herself getting more worried. She needed to remember to stay calm. Getting too anxious before the drugs could take effect would only make her experience while on the drugs worse. She needed to stay as calm as what was possible in that situation.

Her mind went back to what she'd been thinking about prior to Jack calling her. Today was a bad day, even before the drugs. It marked three years since she'd lost her brother -not through death, but she'd literally _lost_ her brother- and as little as she liked to remember her past, she couldn't help the sick feeling in her stomach. She still had no clue where her brother was, or if he'd found a family, or if he was even still alive. She'd never told Dan, or anyone, about her past -she'd made a strong attempt to leave it all behind her- but Jude had always been heavy on her mind. The last time she'd seen him was three years ago, and she never talked about him, but she still worried and wondered about him every day. Today, it was all just ten times worse.

Callie had her arms around Dan's shoulders as he hovered above her on the couch. One of his hands moved under her shirt and she kept kissing him. A part of her knew that she was only acting this way because of the drugs. Another part of her just didn't care. She was having fun. She felt good, and even though she knew that the good mood wasn't actually _real,_ she intended on making the best out of it. Even if she'd wind up regretting it in the next hour or so. His other hand moved down to her hip, holding her down on the couch as his kisses grew more intense. He brought his mouth down to her neck and she chuckled lightly, one of her hands moving to his back as she held onto the fabric of his shirt.

She heard one of Dan's buddies whistle, but she ignored it. It wasn't that big of a deal that they were there. She and Dan were just making out, and they'd probably seen -and done- worse before. Sure, they'd probably call her a whore more often, and they'd probably make more crude jokes, but she could deal with it.

She felt the bulge in Dan's pants rub up against her and she snickered as the hand under her shirt found it's way to her covered breasts. After a minute or two, both of his hands went to the bottom of her shirt as he started to pull it up off of her. She moved one hand to her shirt, keeping it on her, and kept the other one at the back of his neck.

"Woah, slow down there," she chuckled. Dan pulled back slightly, looking a little confused and somewhat frustrated. She glanced at the rest of the guys in the room, then, who were smirking at the two -mostly at her. "There are other people in here too, Dan," Callie said with a light laugh. She was high, but she wasn't an absolute idiot. She knew what Dan was thinking, and she wasn't about to bang him in front of his friends.

"Yeah," Dan shrugged, grinning as both of his hands made their way up her shirt. "They don't care, right guys?" He said, not bothering to glance back at the three bastards who were watching.

"Oh, _definitely not,"_ Jack spoke up, biting his bottom lip as he watched with eager eyes. "This is better than the videos you showed us."

Callie furrowed her brow slightly, looking at Jack and then back at Dan, her eyes almost accusatory. " _Videos?"_ she questioned suspiciously.

"Yep," Dan smirked, like he was proud of himself. "There's a reason we recorded those, Callie. You didn't think those tapes were just for us, did you?" He laughed, amused, and Callie just gave him a slightly disgusted look.

"You're an ass," she muttered. He pressed a kiss against her neck as one hand made it's way to her bra and she grinned slightly, the anger shedding pretty quickly. She was too high to stay angry. "A _hot_ ass, though," she said, moving her hand to his back.

"Then let's get it on with," Dan breathed against her neck, making an attempt at removing her shirt again.

Callie rolled her eyes, pushing his hands down once more. "Come on, Dan," she sighed, getting slightly pissed once more. "I mean it. Not with _them_ around."

Dan pulled back, narrowing his eyes at her. "It's not like they haven't seen it on tape before," he said somewhat sharply. "They may as well see the real thing, too."

"Yeah," Jack chimed in, that dumb smirk still on his face. "I might even join in, too."

Callie shot him a dangerous glare, disgusted, pissed, and entirely turned off. " _Never_ gonna happen, asshole," she growled, pushing Dan off of her. She looked back to Dan, then. "I'm not in the mood anymore," she muttered, starting to move off of the couch.

Dan let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing her arm so that she wouldn't leave. "Don't be a bitch," he spat. "Come on, it's not even a big deal. You don't have to be such a prude."

Callie scoffed, tugging her arm out of his grip and standing up. "Go to hell, Dan," she grunted, turning and starting to walk out of the room.

She could practically feel Dan's hot glare, and she knew that she'd probably wind up regretting saying that to him. She knew that he was pissed at her now for walking away, and she knew that he'd still be pissed about it hours later. She was just feeding fuel to the fire by talking back to him the way she was.

"You're digging yourself a _very_ deep hole right now, Callie," Dan called out as she walked out of the room, his voice treacherously low. He was dead serious, and even with the drugs in her system, she couldn't help but swallow nervously. She was _definitely_ going to regret this later.

Callie just turned back into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Well, the high had worn off. The euphoric part of it, at least. Now she just knew that she was screwed. Dan would give her hell for the attitude that she'd given him.

"You're not seriously just going to let her walk away after that, right?" she heard Jack scoff in the next room.

"Oh, she's not getting away with it," Dan said simply, although his tone was still dark. "Trust me."

Callie tried to take a deep breath, but her heart was pounding and breathing was already hard enough with how much she was panicking. Dan was going to give her hell. She'd already given him an attitude before the drugs. But now she had to worry about more than just that. She'd said no. Normally she knew better than to object to anything, but she'd said _no._ She didn't give him what he'd wanted. She'd literally pushed him off of her. In front of his _friends._ She'd disrespected him _multiple_ times in front of his friends, and she knew for a fact that humiliating him in front of people pissed him off more than anything. He wasn't just going to let her get away with that. Considering the fact that he wasn't screaming at her already, and that he hadn't even hit her, was a clear indicator for her that she was going to wind up _really_ regretting everything once Dan's friends left.

They were still there, though. And they'd probably wind up staying until the next morning. They were all laughing, drinking, and doing whatever drugs they wanted in the next room. They were still there, which meant that Dan wasn't going to do whatever he was intending on doing to her. Not yet at least. Not while people were around. That meant that it would be bad. Callie knew that much.

She had to steady her breathing, though. She had to calm down. She had to fight off the paranoia.

What was he going to do to her. He'd beaten her before, it wasn't really something that was uncommon. Sometimes it'd just be a few hits, nothing too bad. Other times, it could be worse. She could wind up sore for days. But _this?_ She knew that this would be bad. It'd probably wind up being one of the worst. She knew what the worst was like. She'd been there before with him.

She took a breath, but it didn't help. Her breathing wasn't even. She needed to stop thinking. She needed to just focus on breathing and nothing else.

God, everything was screwed up. She shouldn't have even been there. She shouldn't have even been living with Dan. She'd known from the start that it wouldn't have been good, but being the stupid fifteen year old that she'd been when she first hooked up with him, she'd figured that it couldn't have been worse than any foster homes. She figured that it couldn't have been worse than the system. In reality, it was just as bad. Possibly even worse, at times. She shouldn't have been there. She shouldn't have run away from her last foster home, no matter how messed up it was. She shouldn't have gotten herself mixed up in all of this. She should've just waited until she could age out of the system. At least then she'd eventually have an out. _Here?_ Here she'd probably never have a way out.

She felt like the breath was being squeezed out of her. She was sweating now, a side affect from the drugs but also from the panic. She was overheating.

But _God,_ it was all screwed up. She was stuck in that fucking apartment. She didn't _want_ to be there, but she had no way to get out. She had no way to get away. She couldn't 'break up' with Dan. For one thing, it wasn't like they were even in a real relationship. She lived with him and they had sex and he treated her like she was his slave, but that was about all. There was no love between the two at all -there never had been. Neither of them had even used the word with each other before. To Dan, Callie was, essentially, just an always-available booty call whom he could hit around when he wanted. He didn't even care about her. He hooked up with other girls frequently, and he knew that Callie knew. The only thing between the two was anger and lust. And for another thing, she couldn't just go up to Dan and tell him that she was going to leave. She wasn't in charge, Dan was. It wasn't her choice whether or not she could leave or stay. She couldn't run away, either. Dan knew too many people. He could get someone to find her, and then he could either beat her to death or he could be a little more mercifully and _almost_ beat her to death before dragging her back into the apartment. He'd told her that before, and she didn't doubt that it was the truth. Basically, she could either stay there, or she could die. Honestly, she wasn't sure which was the better option.

She was sitting on the floor, her back against the door, and her breathing was rapid. She needed to calm down but she _couldn't_. She needed it to stop. She needed her thinking to stop. She needed the worrying to stop. She needed the _world_ to stop.

She'd lost Jude three years ago. Social workers had pulled her out of that foster home three years ago, telling her that she was going to be sent to another home and that Jude would stay where he was. When she'd asked -or rather, screamed- for them to tell her why she was being separated from her brother, they had simply said that no one would take them both. That she was "damaging his ability to be fostered or adopted by a good family." They'd told her that she was reckless, and that no one wanted to take him if that also meant taking in a thirteen year old with "history of violence and anger issues." They'd basically blamed her for it -they'd told her that _she_ was the reason that she and Jude were being separated. She hadn't even been allowed to say goodbye to him. To see him one last time. He hadn't even been home when they'd taken her. He'd been at some damn school function.

Now she couldnt' stop thinking about him. She couldn't stop worrying about him. She couldn't stop wondering where he was, or if he was even alive. She just couldn't stop. She couldn't stop the heavy breathing, or the anxiety, or the intense fear that was devouring her. She couldn't stop any of it.

She'd attempted to stay in touch with him. She'd sent mail to the address of the foster home that she and Jude had previously been at. He'd never responded, though, so Callie assumed that he'd just been placed somewhere else as well. After that, it had gotten harder. The social workers wouldn't tell her where he was. They wouldn't tell her anything. And she hadn't seen him since. She still looked his name up online at least once or twice a week, just in case something popped up. Nothing had ever shown up, though. She'd even looked up his name with the words "death" and "obituary" alongside it, just in case. Nothing had shown up then, either. That was probably a good thing, though. She was at a loss. She'd lost her younger brother, and there was nothing that she could do about it. She couldn't find him. She couldn't even find out whether or not he was alive. It was her fault, too. Because she was too fucking "damaging."

Her mouth was dry, and her heart was pounding, and she was sweating. She was overheating, but she was getting random chills at the same time, too. Her head was starting to throb, too, and she had a pretty sure feeling that she was dehydrated. That's what it felt like, at least.

She needed water. She knew that she needed water. She also needed to cool off. She was burning up, and if she hadn't been smart enough to know that it was the side effects of the ecstasy, she would've thought that the apartment was cooking at over a hundred degrees. She could, technically, get some water from the sink. She could just keep her mouth by the faucet and drink the water that fell from the tap. The apartment was run down, though. There was no controlling what temperature water came from the tap, and typically, the water was about room temperature. That wouldn't help her cool down. It could help with the dry mouth, and maybe a little bit with the headache. It wouldn't help her cool down, though, and it wouldn't help with the sweating. She needed cold water.

The fridge in the apartment didn't contain any bottles of water, though. There was just beer, vodka, whiskey, and more beer. She'd have to go to the mall convenience store two blocks away. The store was open twenty-four-seven. Considering what stage of the shitty side effects she was on, it was probably eleven o'clock or so. She had to have been at least three hours through the high. Most stores would have been closed by now, but the convenience store was always open. She knew the guy who worked there, too. He was an older man, probably in his sixties, and Callie worked for him sometimes, sweeping or stocking the shelves. He was a good guy. She could go there. She could go the convenience store for a cold bottle of water or two. She could do that.

She'd just have to get past Dan and his goons, though. Dan was definitely still pissed at her. He'd probably like to deny her the access to anything that would help her through the rougher states of the high. He'd probably get satisfaction out of that. Out of seeing her beg. His friends would find it amusing, too. They'd encourage it.

She needed water, though. She needed _cold_ water. She needed to get outside, where she could breathe some fresh air. She needed to leave the apartment. Being there was only making the anxiety worse. It was only making her worry more. It was only making her think of Jude more, because she was stuck, and aside from wondering what Dan would to to her, there wasn't much else to think about.

She made up her mind after a few minutes when she knew that she _needed_ the water. Her head was killing her, and her skin was itching, and she was sweating, and she was dehydrated, and she needed to get something to drink. She stood up, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes when even the simple action made her dizzy.

 _It's just a headrush,_ Callie reminded herself. She'd just gotten up too quickly. She wasn't going to pass out. She _refused_ to pass out again after what had happened the last time she had taken E.

She opened her eyes after a few seconds, then unlocked the bathroom door and turned the knob. She stepped out of the room, then glanced to the living room. Dan and his little rat-pack were laughing, each of them pretty drunk by now. Dan was a heavy drinker. So were the others. Dan and Jack were definitely the worst out of the four guys, though. Callie didn't doubt that for a second.

She stepped into the sitting room, biting her tongue as she made her way toward the door that lead out of the apartment. Dan was the first one to see her, and he shot her a suspicious glare. Everyone else just watched her, already amused at how much she looked like crap.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Dan questioned when he realized that she was heading out of the apartment.

"I, uh, I just- I'm thirsty," she answered, looking at him nervously. "I'm just going to the store. I'll be back soon, I swear."

Dan narrowed his eyes, like he didn't believe her or like he was trying to decide whether or not he should actually let her leave. "Fine," he grunted to Callie's surprise. "You have an hour. If you're not back by then, you're dead."

She didn't know whether she should feel relieved or even more worried. Dan was actually going to let her leave to get the water, but at the same time, she wouldn't be surprised if the last part was true. Sure, Dan had never actually tried to kill her before -he'd gotten close, but clearly he hadn't ever gotten quite there- but she wouldn't put it past him. She was expendable. No one knew her. No one loved her. No one cared for her. No one would notice if she were to disappear. No one would miss her. He knew that, and he used it as a tool against her constantly.

She nodded, muttering a weak "thank you" before turning and walking out of the apartment. She had to be quick.

* * *

 **Okay guys so yeah, that's this chapter. I know it was kinda heavy, or I at least felt like it was. I tried to make it long enough too. Also, I haven't updated "In My Veins," but that's also because the next chapter is longer too so it'll be up soon. Anyways I'm cutting off my note here, because my computer's on two percent and I need to update this. So yeah, please review, I love you all, goodnight.**


	3. Chapter 3

Callie's hands were shaking. She was nervous, she was on edge, she was dehydrated, and the paranoia hadn't died down a single bit. She just kept thinking of Jude. And then of what Dan was going to do to her. And then of Jude. And then of all of the shitty foster homes she'd been in. And then of what Dan was going to do to her. It was like her thoughts were just on repeat and no matter how hard she tried to calm her nerves, she couldn't stop worrying.

The corner store was just another block away. Chuck, the owner, was probably working and she knew that he wouldn't question her too much about how she looked. He knew that Dan hit her around, and that she was basically pushed into doing drugs. Sure, he'd never actually directly told her that he knew, but she knew he knew. He'd seen the bruises. He was a good guy. He'd offered her a place to stay more than once, saying that she "might be better off." She'd always declined, knowing that Dan wouldn't have it, but he'd always continued to offer. He was a good guy. He wouldn't interrogate her about how 'off' she was at the moment.

She scratched her left arm as she walked down the sidewalk. She looked around nervously. She didn't know exactly who she was looking for, but she felt like she had to be alert. Like she had to keep her eyes peeled. Someone was out there, and she had to be careful.

She was dizzy, too. She could walk, she knew where she was going, but the world was spinning around her. She couldn't focus. She needed water. The water would help. She just needed to get to the damn store. And then she needed to get back to the apartment before twelve, otherwise Dan would be pissed. She had time -half an hour, give or take a few minutes. She would go to the store, grab a bottle of water, wait for a few minutes just to get herself together, and then she'd turn back and go back to the apartment. That was all she had to do.

She heard a whistle from a few feet ahead of her and her eyes fell on a guy who was leaning against the wall of one of the buildings. He was a scrawny guy, at least six feet tall with long, lanky arms. He was old, too; he was probably somewhere in his late fifties. His eyes were open wide, a sure sign that he was either high of just a bit of a a nut-job He had a grey, patchy goatee and a pretty severe underbite. He wore jeans and a stained wife-beater top, and Callie took in his appearance. She'd seen the guy before, and she knew who he was. People called him "Crazy Eyes," for obvious reasons. He spent some nights down at the local homeless shelter, and other nights for him were spent at the run down bar across the street or on the sidewalk, where he could catcall younger girls who were naïve enough to walk down the streets alone. Callie had heard stories about him before -he'd been involved in one of the local gangs as a teen, and he'd been messed up from the beginning, starting a life of dealing and doing whatever drugs he could get his hands on when he was just thirteen years old. He was a ruthless bastard who didn't know how to keep his hands to himself; as weak and bony as he looked, local residents knew well enough to steer clear of him if they were alone. He was capable of overpowering unsuspecting women on the street -he was notorious for it.

Even as drugged up as she was, she knew not to get into anything with him. Normally she'd get pissed at guys catcalling her -she'd call them out on it- but at this time of night, in her state, she knew better than to say anything to piss him off. He had a temper. She just glanced at him and then kept walking, her hands in her pockets.

"What's a fine ass like yours doin' alone on a Saturday night?" Crazy Eyes -no one really knew his real name- beckoned.

Callie swallowed the lump in her throat as she glanced sideways at him. She didn't reply, she just walked right past him. That was normally the best thing to do in situations like these. She was still freaked out, though. Maybe it was the drugs -maybe it was the paranoia- or maybe she was just reasonably freaked out.

"Awe, now don't just walk away, darlin'," he snickered, grabbing her upper arm as she started to walk away.

"I-I have to go," she stammered, pulling on her arm to get out of his grip.

She had to get to the store and get her water. She didn't have much time. She'd been outside for at least twenty minutes now, and she needed to be back before her hour was up. Crazy Eyes was getting in the way of that, and she _had_ to be back home before her time was up, otherwise Dan would give her hell. He wouldn't care who had gotten in her way, or why she'd been late. He'd just care about the fact that she was late.

"Awe, come on now, baby, you don't have any place better to be than here right now," he chortled. He tightened his grip on her arm and spun her around so that she was facing him. "Let's see what you can do, huh?"

"Let _go_ of me," Callie growled, pulling at her arm. He grabbed her other arm, too, then, and took a few steps into the small alley between the two buildings they were by, pulling her along with him. "I said let go!" She shouted, tugging harder.

Had she not been drugged up -had she not been so tired, and disoriented, and dehydrated- she wouldn't have had such a hard time trying to get away from him. He wasn't _that_ strong. He was just good at picking out which girls he could take -he knew how to figure out who was drunk, or weak, or high enough. Unfortunately, she was the latter of the three.

"Don't make me force you," Crazy Eyes growled venomously, his breath reeking of booze.

He pinned her against the wall and grinned, his teeth an unhealthy shade of yellow, and Callie scowled at him. He started to chuckle, thinking that he'd convinced her to stop struggling, and she brought her knee up between his legs as swiftly as possible. She was high and she was disoriented, but she wasn't stupid. He buckled over, letting out a pissed off, pained yell, and she took that as her opportunity to get away from the bastard.

She ran, and the panic got worse. He was following her -he had to be. He was probably chasing her. He was probably ready to kill her, just like Dan. She had to get away. She had to keep running until she was sure that he was gone. He was following her. He _had_ to be.

* * *

"I still don't understand why you told Jackson we'd take his shift," Mike sighed as he walked down the sidewalk, his partner just next to him. "You could've at least _talked_ to me before you agreed to do this."

He was being unreasonable -he knew that- but he had a point, too. She could've at least asked him before telling their chief that they would _both_ willingly cover Jackson's shift for the night. After all, Mike had been planning on spending the night at home with his girlfriend. He'd actually been looking forward to it. But no, of course, his partner had decided for _both_ of them that they wouldn't have the night off. Instead, they'd be patrolling a sketchy neighborhood that _neither_ of them were particularly fond of, and for what? Bragging rights? That certainly wasn't the answer.

Stef sighed, rolling her eyes with a light laugh. "What, like how you talked to _me_ when you started dating my kids' biological mother?"

"Oh, come on, that's different," Mike defended himself, thinking that Stef was actually serious. "That doesn't affect you at all. _This_ affects _me."_

"Oh, yeah, you dating Ana doesn't affect me at _all_ ," Stef teased jokingly. "I mean, it's not like she gave birth to two of my children or anything like that."

Mike looked at her, raising his eyebrows. "Stef, I _like_ Ana, and I already told you-"

"Mike," Stef laughed, lightly shoving him off to the side a bit, "I'm just messing. I don't have a problem with you and Ana. And, as much as it pains me to say it," she continued, feigning hurt by placing a hand over her heart, "I'm happy for you two."

"Yeah, yeah," Mike chuckled, rolling his eyes lightly. "Whatever you say."

Stef just gave him a small, warm smile, then looked forward again. "And I told Jackson we'd take the shift cause he's planning on proposing to his girlfriend tonight, by the way," Stef admitted. "I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone, but I _guess_ you have a right to know."

"Oh," Mike replied, raising his eyebrows in slight surprise as he nodded. "Huh. Well good for him then. That guy-"

They turned the corner, and both officers were caught completely off guard when someone slammed right into Stef, nearly knocking her over. Mike, acting on instinct, grabbed the girl's arm before she could fall, and also knowing that people didn't just run through the streets in middle of the night in this neighborhood for no reason. Something was wrong. When he was sure that she wasn't going to fall, he let go.

"Woah, you good there kid?" Stef asked, taking a step back as she looked at the girl who had barreled straight into her.

The girl looked like a mess. She was sweating, and she looked unusually anxious. There was a dark bruise barely covered up by foundation on her right cheek, and she had a bloody lip. She had almond eyes that were wide with fear, and her breathing was heavy as she just stood there, looking at both officers as though she were on the verge of choosing between fight and flight. The brunette couldn't have been older than seventeen, Stef guessed.

"Hey," Mike tried when the girl didn't respond to Stef. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

The only reason why the girl should've been running was if someone was chasing her, but as Stef glanced past the kid, she didn't see anyone. The street was empty. The sidewalk was empty. Something was up. She looked back at the girl, and after a few seconds, Stef could figure it out pretty easily. The teen's pupil's were dilated. She seemed somewhat disoriented. She was sweating. She was unnecessarily anxious.

She was high.

Stef cast a glance to Mike, who looked back at her with a small nod. They were both aware of the fact that the kid was on some kind of drug. Maybe it was speed, maybe it had just been some pot, or maybe it was something else. But she was on something, that was for sure.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine," the girl responded, taking a step backward and clearly growing more anxious. "I, uh, I gotta go."

The girl turned, stiff, and started to walk away. Stef grabbed her gently but firmly by the arm, stopping her from walking away. The girl had been running. Drugged up or not, she'd been running for a reason, and Stef wasn't about to let the girl walk back _right_ in the direction of whatever, or whomever, she'd been running from. She didn't want to arrest the girl -she didn't plan on ruining the girl's life- but if there was any way that she could help her, she'd do so. It broke Stef's heart to see a girl that age on drugs in such a messed up neighborhood.

"Hold on, what were you running from?" Stef asked.

The girl winced slightly when Stef grabbed her arm, which didn't go unnoticed by either of the officers. Neither of the two said anything, though. That could wait.

"No one," the girl answered quickly, her expression growing more worried as she looked at the female officer.

Stef raised an eyebrow. She hadn't asked _who_ the girl had been running from, but the girl's unusually quick answer served as a clear sign that she'd been running from someone.

"You know, you can't get in trouble for trying to get away from someone," Stef tried, keeping her tone as gentle yet still professional as she could. "If someone hurt you, or if someone was threatening you, we can help."

The girl just shook her head quickly, then took a step backward, keeping her eyes on the female officer. "I'm _fine,"_ she insisted, swallowing nervously. "Just went for a jog. I _really_ have to go."

"Are you high?" Stef asked. The girl didn't respond, she just looked at Stef nervously.

"It's probably in your best interest that you're honest with us," Mike piped up after a few seconds of silence passed.

The girl looked between the two, like she knew that the cops wouldn't believe her if she lied but also like she knew that if she was honest, then she'd end up taking a ride in a patrol car.

"Look, unless I'm being arrested for running into you," the girl stammered, "I, uh, I really need to go."

"How about this," Mike sighed, raising an eyebrow. She hadn't even answered Stef's question, which didn't leave a doubt in his mind that she was high. "My partner will search you, and if you're not in possession of anything, you're free to go. Alright?"

The girl looked hesitantly at Mike, and then at Stef. "You'll let me go?" she asked, turning her attention to Stef as she eyed her suspiciously.

Stef offered her a small smile and nodded. "As long as we don't find anything, yeah. You can go back to wherever you're rushing to."

She looked at the pair skeptically one last time before nodding slowly. Here eyes were still anxious, but she seemed to be realizing that this was her only option if she didn't want to wind up with cuffs on her wrists.

"Fine," she muttered.

Stef patted her down, not missing how the girl seemed to grimace when her hand gently touched her side. After what couldn't have been more than a minute, Stef shook her head lightly at Mike and stepped back. The girl didn't have drugs on her. She was high, that much was clear, but the girl didn't have anything on her and Stef was a woman of her word. She'd said that she wouldn't drag the girl back to the station, and she was going to hold to that. She didn't want to ruin the girl's chances at a good future by slamming her with charges for being high. Stef didn't become a cop to arrest people; she'd become a cop to _help_ people. Mike was the same way.

"Alright," Stef said with a light sigh and nod, stepping back. "Looks like you're free to go, then."

The girl looked somewhat relieved as she heard this. She still looked anxious, though, and not just because of the presence of the two cops beside her. There was something more. Some sort of underlying fear that Stef couldn't quite get to the bottom of.

"Alright, uh, thanks," the girl muttered, taking a step back as she looked between the two officers, like she was expecting them to grab her and whip the cuffs onto all of a sudden or something. "And sorry about running into you."

She turned, and Stef bit her lip nervously. There was something about the kid that just made her worry. Looking at her and hearing her, Stef couldn't help but feel like she should've known the girl. There was just _something_ about the girl. Maybe it was just Stef's mind playing games on her, but the teen just looked so familiar, and Stef could've sworn that she'd seen the girl's face before. Plus, the neighborhood was dangerous. Even thinking of a young girl walking down the streets in that neighborhood alone at night made Stef's stomach turn. It wasn't safe.

"Hang on," Stef called out, causing the girl to stop and look back at her with a mixture of what could've only been annoyance and worry in her eyes. "We'll give you a ride back to wherever you're going," Stef said firmly, no room for argument in her tone. "It's safer, and you'll get there sooner anyway."

"I-I'm fine," the girl insisted, her eyes growing more fearful. "I live nearby. I can walk. I'm fine."

"No, we'll drop you off," Stef replied seriously. "Or we can just take you to the station."

She knew that it wasn't fear to threaten her like that, but she wasn't about to let the girl walk down the sidewalk in the middle of the night. It wasn't safe. Plus, the girl had been running from someone previously, and if she were to bump into whoever that person had been, it likely wouldn't end up well.

The teen clenched her jaw nervously, looking back and forth between the two officers who were both looking at her seriously. There was no way that they were just going to let a kid walk through that neighborhood by herself in the middle of the night. They had become police officers to serve and protect, and if they were to let the kid walk home, or wherever she was going, like that, they wouldn't be protecting anyone.

"Fine," the girl muttered, clearly unhappy but also knowing that she had no other choice.

* * *

 **Okay so that's this chapter. It's short, sorry about that, but it's more so a leading-up kinda chapter. The next chapter kinda shifts back to Callie's perspective too. There's more Stef (and potential Lena, if I don't move the scene in mind to the following chapter) in that chapter, though, and things will _definitely_ start to pick up then as well. Anyway, yeah, that's this chapter.**

 **Thank you so much for all of the reviews, by the way! I definitely didn't expect that many, and I appreciate them very much. Feel free to leave any comments/critiques/suggestions if you'd like. And I know that I haven't updated "In My Veins" yet, but it's a long chapter and I've had a decent amount of writer's block with it, so I guess that's my best excuse (I hate leaving excuses but I just want you to know that there is a reason it's taken so long). I still have a lot of writing to do for this story though, with no writer's block, so expect a decent amount of posts haha.**


	4. Chapter 4

"So you got a name, kid?" the male officer asked, glancing back at Callie for a moment.

She didn't want to be there. She didn't want to be in the back of the fucking cop car. It just made her worry even more. Maybe that was partially due to the drugs, or maybe it was just because of prior experiences in cop cars. It was probably the later of the two, she decided, although the drugs _definitely_ heightened the anxiety. She had good reason to be worried by the fact that she was in the cop car, too. Sure, the officers had said that they wouldn't be arresting her -the female officer had insisted that they only wanted to get her home safely- but getting arrested wasn't even what she was worried about. Sure, that would mean getting sent back to Juvie, and having a years' worth of efforts to stay out of the system tossed away, but that was the least of her worries. If Dan were to see Callie walking out of a _police car,_ he would be beyond pissed. He would be enraged. He'd probably be madder than she'd ever seen.

"Cameron," Callie responded, probably a bit too quickly.

She'd had it instilled in her brain not to tell cops, or anyone of the like, her real name. Dan had insisted that doing so would just get her into trouble. She also knew that it'd be foolish to tell the cop her real name. She'd disappeared for a reason. She hadn't run away just to be found again. Using a fake name -always Cameron, to keep things simple- was just precautionary measures.

Callie glanced at the rearview mirror, noticing that the female officer glanced up at her as she turned on the car. She shifted her gaze out the window, then. She could tell the cops to drop her off about two blocks away from the apartment, that way Dan wouldn't see the cop car. She could lie. But then she'd probably wind up arriving there late because she'd have to walk an extra two blocks, and that would just end with her being used as his personal punching bag. If she didn't lie, though, then Dan would probably see her getting out of a police car in front of his apartment and he'd probably beat her just as badly, if not even worse. Callie could only see one outcome, no matter what she'd choose to do: getting beaten. It would probably be more dangerous for her to tell the cop where she really lived, though. Dan would _flip_ if he were to see Callie bringing police to the apartment.

"How old are you?" the officer questioned, her tone gentle although Callie knew better than to trust it. The woman was a stranger -she was a cop- and Callie wasn't about to go telling the cop everything about her. "You seem a little young to be walking around alone this late at night."

"Eighteen," Callie answered coldly, once again a bit too quickly, she realized, as the cop gave her a suspicious look.

The female officer didn't say anything though. She didn't argue with Callie, despite the fact that she could clearly see through the girl's lie.

"So how'd you get that bruise?" the woman asked, glancing at the mirror to see the bruise on Callie's cheek.

 _Shit,_ Callie thought instantly, the panic growing within her. She hadn't even thought to cover it up better before she'd left the apartment. Normally she knew better than to leave without covering it up as much as possible with concealer or foundation or whatever she could use. With the drugs, though, the thought hadn't even occurred to her.

"I- I fell," Callie said, stumbling over her words slightly as her heart started to race in her chest. The cop was suspicious -that was _bad._

The officer narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly not buying it.

 _Of course she's not gonna believe you,_ Callie thought, frustrated. _She's a cop, for fuck's sake. She probably sees this shit all the time. She's not gonna be stupid enough to believe an excuse like that._

"Uh, you can just drop me off at the corner of Harrison and 6th Street," Callie said before giving the officer a chance to ask her about the bruise even more. "I can walk from there."

"No, no," the cop replied with a light shake of the head, "we'll drop you off at home. You shouldn't be walking around this late at night anyway. What's the address?"

"No," Callie insisted, her eyes growing wider. "Just drop me off at Harrison and Sixth, I'll be fine, I live right by there."

The female officer slowed down the car slightly, glancing back to the girl with furrowed eyebrows. "You know, if something is going on at home, or if whoever gave you that bruise-" Stef nodded to the bruise on Callie's cheek, "is still around, you can tell us. We're _cops_. We can _help."_

Callie shook her head, trying to look unfazed by the officer's words, although she couldn't quite do so. "I'm fine," she repeated, insistent on keeping her personal life separate from the situation. "Look, just drop me off there and it'll be easier on all of us."

The woman brought the car to a full stop, then, and turned in her seat to look at Callie, a sympathetic yet also serious expression on her face. "I'm dropping you off at home, and then I am going to walk you to the door so that I know that you're not lying to us," she spoke. " _Unless_ you don't feel _safe_ with us dropping you off. If that's the case, then you can tell us _why_ you don't feel safe, and we can figure out what we can do about that."

Callie swallowed nervously. The cop was serious. She wasn't going to drop Callie off farther away from the apartment, and she also clearly wasn't going to let Callie trick her into dropping her off somewhere else.

"No," Callie replied, rushing her answer a little bit as she shook her head. "No, I'm perfectly safe at home." She bit her lip for a moment, then let out a quiet breath. "Just keep going straight and take the next right."

She scratched her left arm nervously. She was still getting chills, and her skin was crawling, and her forehead was sweating. She hadn't even managed to get a bottle of water from the store. The creep on the sidewalk had freaked her out too much, and the stupid blonde cop in front of her had somehow managed to screw things up even worse. She might as well have just killed Callie.

She caught the female cop glancing at her through the rearview mirror, but she didn't say anything. She just scratched her arm and looked out the window. She had to do what she could to draw as little attention to her as possible. The cop was already suspicious enough -that much was obvious- but Callie didn't want to raise anymore questions.

The officer opened the console between the driver and passenger seats and reached into it. Callie couldn't help but feel her frustration rising. The car was parked on the side of the road, Callie was already running late getting home, and the damn cop was too busy looking through the console instead of actually driving Callie to where she needed to be.

"Here," the blonde said, her voice a sad kind of gentle as she reached back to where Callie was sitting, an unopened water bottle in her hand.

Callie looked at her hesitantly, and some what accusingly. She hadn't asked for a water. She hadn't asked for _anything._ Who did the cop think she was? She didn't have any obligation to Callie. She didn't _have_ to drive her home. She didn't _have_ to give her the water. She didn't _have_ to care about how old Callie was, or if she was high, or if she was safe at home. But here she was, shooting Callie the sympathetic look that made her sick to her stomach, helping Callie out when Callie didn't deserve anyone. And honestly, that pissed her off.

She shook her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm not thirsty," she lied with a light sigh.

"I think we both know that's not the truth," the blonde argued softly, still holding out the water.

Callie bit her lip hard before reaching out and grabbing the bottle of water in her hand. The truth was, she was parched. She knew for a fact that she was dehydrated, and with the drugs in her system, she felt like she was going to pass out. She was lucky that she was even managing to act like she had her act together in front of the cop. Even with the drugs in her, she knew how to at least act like she wasn't high off her ass. The paranoia was still pretty bad. Her skin was crawling, she was sweating, and her mouth couldn't have been drier, but she knew how to keep herself together. At least, she thought she did. If the cop could see how badly she needed the water, then maybe she wasn't keeping herself together as well as she thought she was.

She opened the bottle and took a sip, feeling somewhat relieved as the water ran down her throat. The cop was driving again, now. Callie could hear her talking to her, but she wasn't really paying attention. She was tired. She was lightheaded. She was anxious. Dan was going to be pissed. She couldn't even imagine what he was going to do to her.

"Turn right here," Callie mumbled, still deaf to whatever the woman was saying. Whatever it was, it didn't matter to Callie.

The cop pulled the car to a halt when Callie said to stop. As the teen started to get out of the car, so did the cop.

Callie sighed, frustrated, annoyed, and positive that Dan would make her regret it if she were to let the cop walk her to the door.

"I'm not your prom date, lady," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "You don't have to walk me up to my door."

"Oh, no, you're _definitely_ not my prom date," the woman replied with a light chuckle. "She was a mess."

She didn't even say anything about walking Callie to her door though. She closed the car door after saying something quietly to her partner. Callie crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the cop.

"I can walk to the door by myself."

The officer raised an eyebrow, taking the same stance as Callie, folding her arms and jutting her bottom jaw out slightly.

"You know, if another officer had seen you like this, you'd be in a holding cell right now," she said. Her tone was stern, but her eyes were caring -gentle, even. It made Callie uncomfortable. The cop should've been pissed, or apathetic. She shouldn't have cared about her. "I'm either walking you to the door, or to the station. It's your choice."

Callie involuntarily swallowed the growing knot in her throat. She was screwed either way. She couldn't go to the station though, because that would mean some sort of investigation into who she was, which would lead to her getting thrown right back into the system, which would mean either Juvie or a screwed up foster home or group home. Whatever Dan might do to her couldn't be worse than that, could it?

She didn't reply, she just turned and started walking toward the building, knowing very well that the woman was following. She let out a shaky, silent breath. Every step she took felt unsteady. She kept her arms folded over her chest, because she knew that if she din't, her hands would be shaking. She couldn't let the cop see that. It wasn't because of the drugs, either. It was because of how scared she really was -about what Dan would do, and about the fact that the cop actually gave a damn. When they reached the door, Callie put her hand on the doorknob.

This was her last chance.

She could tell the truth. She could risk going to Juvie or to some new, messed up home just for the chance to get Dan put away for what he'd done -to get away from him- or she could open that door and walk in without looking back -she could go right back to him.

She turned the doorknob and started to push the door open.

"Cameron, wait," the woman stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Callie turned her head, knowing fully well that she probably looked like a deer in headlights. What did she want now.

"You have a choice here, kid," she said with a light sigh. "You and I, we can go down to the station right now and find you some place safe. I know you don't actually want to keep living like _this."_ She nodded toward the bruise on the girl's face.

Callie scoffed, somewhat amused, somewhat offended, and incredibly nervous, although she hid that part. "You don't know anything about me," she muttered.

"In case you ever want an out," the officer whispered softly, reaching out and placing a small card into the palm of Callie's right hand before turning and beginning to walk back toward her squad car.

Little did they both know how much she really _did_ know Callie.

* * *

 **Hey guys, so I know that this is long overdue, as are future chapters of In My Veins. I've just gotten through two of the busiest weeks of my year, and on top of that there are personal things going on, so I've been finding it very difficult to find time to write. This chapter might have been a little rough, but I have this entire story mapped out and I promise that things are gonna start to get better/more interesting very soon.**

 **As for In My Veins, I don't know when the next chapter will be posted. I'm still working on it, and I have two very different versions of it. I'm just having trouble figuring out what I want, and I'm having some serious writer's block with that story too. Please don't hate me, I promise I really am working on it, and that I won't ever give up on it.**

 **Anyways, yeah, that's all I'm gonna say for now. Please don't hate me you guys, I promise that I'm not gonna give up on In My Veins or on I'm In Here. I just need to work through my writer's block and some stuff. I'm hoping that I'll update this story soon again.**


	5. Chapter 5

**My computer's dying so I'm making this quick. First half of this chapter is kinda heavy.**

* * *

"Stop," Callie grunted as his fist barreled into her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw. This was too much. He hit her again, his right hand making contact with her abdomen while his left hand was wrapped around her neck, keeping her pinned against the wall.

"Dan," she managed to choke out. "Stop. _Please_. Just _stop_."

"You deserve a _hell_ of a lot worse than what I'm giving you right now," Dan hissed, tightening his grip on her throat and grabbing her chin tightly with his right hand. "Look at me, bitch," he growled, his voice low and filled with venom.

Callie opened her eyes, all too aware that they were glassy from the tears that she was unsuccessfully attempting to keep at bay. She met his gaze, and the fired up look in his eyes was enough to tell Callie that he wasn't going to do what she'd asked. He wasn't just going to _stop._ This was Dan. He did what he wanted, and he got what he wanted. Callie had no say in the matter. Hell, her asking him to stop would probably just make him want to keep it up even more.

"You brought a fucking _cop_ to my apartment," he snarled. "A _cop!"_ He slapped her, as if to reinforce how pissed he was about the fact that a police officer had been anywhere near him. "How dumb are you, huh?"

"Dan, I can explain," Callie tried, rushing her words. "It's not what you think, I-"

He threw her to the ground forcefully, a look in his eyes that showed no sense of understanding. He didn't have a conscience. He didn't have a kind bone in his body. Callie should've known better than to try to reason with him. Dan was a monster. He was a sick, twisted son of a bitch. Trying to convince him that she wasn't in the wrong -trying to give him some sort of an excuse- would be futile. He didn't give a damn about what anyone had to say but himself. He didn't care about whatever she had to say to him.

He sent a quick but powerful kick to her gut, then crouched down and grabbed her by the throat again, holding her head inches from his and looking her straight in the eyes.

"You disrespected me in front of my friends," he spoke, his voice low and raspy. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and it made her feel even more sick to her stomach. "And then you got home late, with a _cop_. This is _exactly_ what it looks like."

Callie knew better than to say anything. At this point, with Dan as pissed as he was, she knew better than to try to justify her actions, or to explain that the cop, whoever she was, didn't know anything. She didn't know _which_ apartment Callie lived in, or that Dan was there, or even who Dan was. The cop didn't know that she'd practically just been at the doorstep of one of the city's most notorious dealers. But Callie couldn't tell him that. Callie couldn't explain to him that she really hadn't done anything wrong, and now she was probably going to wind up sore for weeks because of that.

He shoved her against the ground and before she could even put her arms up to guard herself, he sent a swift punch to her jaw. He kneeled over her, a leg on either side of her, and sent another punch to her face. She tried to shove him off of her, but she was still disoriented and exhausted from the pills that he'd forced her to take, and he was drunk and probably high off of something else that _didn't_ impair his strength. He had the upper hand here.

His fist collided with her forehead and she closed her eyes, knowing that it wasn't even over with yet. She'd been hit before -foster parents could get pretty pissed off easily, especially if they were drunk- and she'd been hit by Dan _countless_ times before. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn't done yet.

He grabbed her by the throat once more, likely just to keep her pinned down, and when he didn't punch her again, she opened her eyes. Something was up. She saw him reach into his pocket, and her eyes widened when he pulled out a metal object. Her breath caught in her throat and she could've sworn that for a few seconds, her heard had stopped beating. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't even managed to get his name out of her mouth to ask him to stop.

"I should kill you _right_ now," he snarled, pressing the blade of the knife against her throat, glaring straight into her eyes. "Nobody would miss you. Nobody would even notice that you're missing. No one would _care."_

Callie didn't breathe. She didn't try to push him away. She didn't even try to speak. She knew that if she were to do anything else, that she'd probably push Dan over the edge. If she were to do anything else, he would kill her without even thinking twice about it. He was right, too. He'd get away with it, because _no one_ would notice her absence. She didn't have anyone who loved her. She didn't have anyone whom she loved. She could disappear, and nobody would ever notice. Dan could kill her, and nobody would ever even know.

He held the blade against her skin for a few seconds, and Callie could feel herself growing dizzy, partially due to the fact that she was too frightened to breathe, and partially due to the fact that his grip around her throat was tightening. After a short -yet subjectively long- time, he loosened his grip on her neck and pulled the knife away slowly, his wild eyes never leaving hers.

"You are going to get what you deserve," he spoke, his voice threateningly calm and low. "And you're going to learn your place."

Callie swallowed nervously, her heart thudding in her chest like a drum. Dan was a psychopath. He had no conscience. He was deranged, and although Callie didn't quite know the details of his 'work,' she didn't doubt that it involved hurting people. Hell, he'd probably tortured people before just to get what he wanted. Or maybe even just for his own amusement. He was a sick, sadistic son of a bitch, and she had a feeling that whatever he had in plan for her, it wasn't just going to be a couple hits to the stomach or a blow to the jaw. He was insane, and on top of that, he was drunk, high, and running off of pure rage. If he wasn't going to kill her for what she'd done, what was he going to do to her?

"Dan," she tried to reason, hoping to change his mind, although she knew that her attempt would most likely be futile. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? It'll never happen again, I promise, I-"

"Oh, it'll never happen again," he breathed, resting the knife against her side. "I'm gonna make sure of that."

It all happened in an instant. She could feel the pressure of the knife against her side increase just slightly. She recognized the sinister glint in his eyes. She could feel his hold on her neck grow a little tighter. Her eyes widened and she started to call out his name but by the time she'd even gotten a sound out, the blade had already ripped through her shirt and was beginning to cut through her flesh. He slid the knife down her side, his eyes fixed on hers the entire time, like he was trying to see every emotion in her eyes -the fear, the pain, the hopelessness. He got off on that kind of stuff.

The tears made their escape, then, as Callie felt her own skin rip. Her side was burning, and she couldn't help but let out a single, pained sob. She tried to pull back -it was instinctual- but his hold on her neck and the fact that he was kneeling over her had made it impossible for her to do so. She knew that the injury wasn't going to kill her, but it hurt like hell -it was specifically meant to hurt like a bitch, but not to kill her. The cut wasn't even deep. It was shallow, but that was what really made it sting. Dan knew what he was doing, too. He hadn't intended to leave her with a gash -he hadn't intended to hit any vital organs, or to cause her to lose enough blood that she'd pass out and die. He wanted it to sting -he wanted it to burn. He wanted her to feel the pain. She knew him well enough to know that.

She clenched her jaw, shutting her eyes tightly and wishing away the tears, and the pain, and everything else. Dan was a psychotic son of a bitch, and as bad as he'd been before, he'd never done something like this. He'd never actually cut her with the knife. Sure, he'd threatened to hurt her with it before, but he'd never actually done so. He'd never actually used it to hurt her.

Until now.

He snickered under his breath, and she had to shut her jaw tightly so as not to let out a cry as he slid the knife against her stomach. God he was insane. He was a lunatic. He was demented. He deserved to rot in Hell. He belonged in prison. How she'd even gotten herself into this mess in the first place, she had no idea. Had she known that things would be _this_ bad with him, she never would've tried to escape the foster system in the first place.

She let out a strangled sob when he pressed down on the new cut -he'd done so specifically to make it hurt worse, and he'd been successful. It hurt like a fucking bitch.

"Oh no," he scoffed, placing the hand holding the knife over her mouth. "We can't have that, now, can we?"

He pulled the hand that had been on her throat away, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He smirked slightly as a few more tears ran down Callie's cheeks, then fiddled around with his phone for a few seconds. Music started playing fairly loudly from the bluetooth speaker on the other side of the room, and Callie lost all hope in that moment. Even if she were to try to call for help, no one would hear her. She had absolutely no chance here. Unless she fought back.

She couldn't do that though, could she?

He'd kill her. He had a knife. He wasn't injured. He was probably too drunk to even feel much pain. He was stronger than her. She was disoriented from the dehydration, drugs, and pain. She was weaker than him. She wasn't armed. She couldn't fight back -she would just be asking to get killed.

He started to bring the knife back towards her, and that's when she decided what had to be done. Maybe she'd get killed for it, but she couldn't take it anymore. It was already bad enough, but she couldn't let it get worse. She just couldn't do this anymore.

She kneed him between the legs, which wasn't too hard considering the fact that he was kneeling right over top of her. He let out a loud, frustrated grunt, grimacing as he brought his hands down between his legs. Callie took this as an opportunity to get away from him and, maybe by some shred of pure luck, get out of the apartment. While he was too focused on his own pain, she pulled away from him and started to stand up. He still had the knife, and she didn't have anything to defend herself with. She needed to run.

She started to turn, but felt herself fall face-first onto the hardwood floor when a hand caught around her ankle. She barely managed to catch herself by sticking her arms out, and she tugged her leg, trying to get away from his grip. She kicked backwards, hitting him in the face, and tried to get up once more. He lunged at her, then, and she knew that she was pretty much screwed. He threw her forward, and the left side of her face collided with the wall.

"You _really_ shouldn't have done that, Callie," he snarled as his nose flared. God, he was pissed.

She looked at him and scanned the area with her eyes quickly. There was nothing that she could use to her advantage, though. The door out of the apartment was too far away for her to run for it, and even if by some miracle she'd be able to reach it, it was locked. She wouldn't have time.

"You're dead," he growled, taking a step toward her.

His fist came flying toward her face, and knuckle met jaw. The back of her head hit against the wall and she could taste the blood in her mouth. He held the knife at his side in his other hand, and she knew that if she didn't do _something,_ then the blade would probably wind up going straight into her eventually. She was dizzy and she was seeing stars, but she sent a swift kick at Dan's stomach. Not expecting her to keep fighting back, Dan was caught off guard. He stumbled backwards and Callie decided to test her luck by beginning to sprint toward the door. She had to get out. She had to get away from him.

He jumped at her when she was only a few feet away from the door, tackling her to the ground. Her face hit against the floor, and it only took a few seconds before she could feel the blood starting to run down her nose. She tried to get away, but he was over top of her and after a moment, she could feel metal against the back of her neck. If she tried anything, he'd probably wind up slitting her throat.

"You fucking bitch!" Dan shouted, grabbing her by the hair and lifting her head up off of the ground.

He spun her around, then. He was practically sitting on top of her, and he held the knife in his hand. She was even more disoriented, now. Everything was spinning, and her vision was cloudy, and the pain only made it all worse. She didn't think she had much fight left in her. She didn't have any hope left in her. Dan was going to kill her, and that was that.

"Just get it over with," she breathed. Her voice wasn't even shaky as she looked at the blade in his hand.

His eyes followed to the knife, and he looked back at her, narrowing his eyes. He shook his head, jutting his bottom jaw out. "Oh, no," he replied in a low voice. "I'm not letting you off that easily."

Callie couldn't help but show the fear in her eyes as he closed the knife and slid it into his back pocket. He was going to make this worse than she thought it could be.

"You don't get a fast death," he spoke coldly.

One hand went around her throat, and she half expected him to hit her again with his other hand -that was how it always went- but it came as a slight shock to her when he placed his other hand around her neck as well.

He was going to strangle her.

He was going to deprive her of oxygen. He was going to make her death even longer than it could've been. He was going to kill her, and he was going to make sure that she knew exactly what he was doing to her while it was going on.

She looked at him pleadingly as he pushed down on her throat. Why couldn't he just let her go. Why couldn't he just beat her instead? Why couldn't he just slit her throat, or shoot her? Why couldn't he just make it quick?

She couldn't breathe. She was getting even dizzier. It was harder to see, or focus on anything. Her eyes moved to the ground beside her and Dan as she made one last attempt at saving herself. Maybe there was something she could do. Maybe she didn't have to die like this. Maybe-

There was a bottle of beer lying on the ground next to them, just at arms reach. It was a long shot, and she knew that if this didn't go as planned, he'd kill her, but she had to try. She had to try one last thing.

Her hand reached out to the bottle, and she figured that he was too lost in strangling her that he didn't even notice, because his hands remained on her throat. She gripped the top of the bottle tightly, then swung it upwards in one last feeble attempt at survival. The bottle cracked against his head, and Callie was even surprised when she felt the pressure against her throat ease up. It worked.

Before his eyes shut, there was a look of recognition within them. A sort of shock that was mixed with anger and even what Callie could almost identify as fear was in them. Like he'd realized that he lost. That he hadn't killed her. That she'd stopped him. His eyes shut and his body went limp, collapsing onto her.

He was heavy, a man built of muscle, and she struggled somewhat in pushing him off of her. The alcohol that was in the bottle had gotten all over her, and she felt sick to her stomach. Sure, she'd knocked him out, but she still knew that it wasn't over. She still knew that he'd probably wake up. She wasn't completely free of him.

She stood up after a minute or two, hoping that she'd have enough strength to get away. As she took a few steps toward the door, though, her vision blurred even more and everything seemed distant, and fuzzy. Maybe it was her injuries. Maybe it was from blood loss. Maybe it was from the drugs, or dehydration, or a concussion, but she knew that she wasn't going to make it to the door. The last thing that she remembered before passing out was what day it was.

It was the anniversary of the worst day of her life -the day she'd lost Jude. And it had almost been the last day of her life as well.

* * *

It was half past two when Stef got home. Typically, her shifts didn't end so late, but since she'd been covering Jackson's shift, tonight was an exception. At least she'd have the day off the next day though.

It was a school night, and Stef glanced into each room just to make sure that everyone was asleep. Her kids were her entire world, and even though they were all at an age where they didn't quite apprecate the term, they were her babies, and they always would be. Even if only one of the four children had actually been hers as a baby. They all held a huge piece of her heart, and she'd do anything for them.

As she started toward her own bedroom, she let out a quiet sigh. A sliver of light escaped from the room into the hallway, and she knew exactly what that meant. Her wife, Lena, had once again immersed herself into her work, something that had been happening far too much for Stef's liking over the past few weeks. She knew that Lena was devoted to her students and her children during school hours, but she wished that her wife would take a break and actually relax sometimes. She was clearly exhausted, no matter how well she tried to act like she wasn't, and she really did deserve a break.

Stef stepped into the bedroom, closing the door gently behind her so as not to wake any of the kids. Lena, not to Stef's surprise, was sitting cross-legged on the bed, files and paperwork to her right and a laptop on her lap.

"Hey," Lena said, immediately looking up to her wife who had finally gotten home. She smiled warmly, her eyes full of love, at Stef, closing the laptop and reaching over to set it down on the nightstand. The smile couldn't trick Stef, though. She knew very well that her wife was exhausted, and nothing could get past her.

"Hey, Love," Stef whispered, stepping over to the bedside and planting kiss on her wife's head. "Looks like it's a late night for us both, huh?"

"Yeah," Lena sighed, raising her eyebrows slightly and looking down to the papers on Stef's side of the bed. "I know what I want to do here," she spoke softly as Stef removed her police belt and started to take off the top of her uniform, "but I just feel like there's something _missing,_ you know?"

Stef nodded lightly as she changed into some clothes that she could wear to bed. "Yeah," she replied, "yeah I get what you're saying, love."

To be honest, Stef felt somewhat the same way. Sure, it was in an entirely different aspect, but she understood the feeling. She'd felt it with that girl from earlier in the night. There was something about that girl that Stef should have seen right away, but she just couldn't quite pin whatever it was. Something was missing there, too.

"Maybe you should just take a break for a while," Stef suggested, looking to Lena somewhat hopefully. She knew that Lena could be stubborn about these kinds of things, but she knew that she needed a serious break as well. "You've been working so hard on this. Maybe you're just a little drained?"

Lena smiled up at Stef again, her eyes showing a hint of amusement. "I think we both know that that is _not_ an option," she replied, shaking her head. "If I want the school board to approve of, and _financially support_ , this project, then it has to be perfect within the next two months. I'll take a break when I get them to sign off on this," she finished with a light laugh, collecting the papers that were on Stef's side of the bed.

Stef let out a quiet sigh, but gave her wife an understanding nod. She didn't necessarily approve of Lena pushing herself so hard for this project, but at the same time, she could understand where her wife was coming from. The entire program was important to Lena, and when something was this close to her heart, there was no way of convincing her to back off, even if just slightly. Lena would be pushing herself to get the program to peak perfection until the deadline was reached. In the meantime, Stef would just have to make sure that she was keeping her wellbeing in balance during it all.

"You'll get the board's approval," Stef breathed after a few seconds as she made her way over to her side of the bed. "Trust me, by the time you're done selling them your idea, they'll be _begging_ you to sign a contract."

"I certainly hope so," Lena replied with a sigh, setting the files -now filled with the papers that had been lying across the bed- down on top of the nightstand beside the laptop. She looked over to Stef, then, who was pulling the blanket over herself. "So how was _your_ day, huh? Mike give you the third-degree for making him work so late?"

Stef scoffed lightly, rolling her eyes. "Oh, yeah. He wasn't too happy about spending the night in Pacific Beach. He got over it though," she said dismissively, putting an arm around Lena's shoulders as the two settled into bed.

Lena, however, didn't seem to think that the conversation should be so easily set aside. "Pacific Beach?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow and giving her wife the _'I can't believe you didn't tell me where you were patrolling'_ look.

"Yeah," Stef nodded, as though it wasn't a big deal. She knew that Lena wasn't too fond of the details of her job, and that she _definitely_ wasn't a fan of Stef working in some of the more dangerous areas in San Diego. "It was _fine,_ " Stef tried to assure her wife after a few seconds. "And it was just a one time thing, I promise."

Lena looked unsure, then nodded after a few seconds. "Alright," she sighed. "If you say so."

Stef smiled softly, resting her head on her wife's shoulder as they both just stared ahead. "It was a weird night though," she admitted, still unable to get that girl out of her mind. There was just _something_ about that kid that seemed off. Something that should've been blatantly obvious to Stef.

"Oh yeah?" Lena asked, curious. "How so?"

"This girl, a teenager, ran into me in the street -and I mean she literally _ran_ into me. She was high off of something, and she had this bruise on her face, and I offered to give her a ride home because she'd clearly been freaked out by something, and no one -let alone a teenage girl- should be walking down the street at night down there. But anyways, she didn't want me to drop her off where she actually lived, so I told her that it'd either be her place, or the station."

Lena nodded, listening.

"So I brought her to her place, and I gave her my card, and I made sure that she got in. But there was just something _about_ her, Lena," Stef sighed, biting the corner of her mouth. "I don't know what it was, but it was like I should've known her. Like I've _seen_ her before."

Lena furrowed her brow, confused. "Do you think that maybe you've picked her up before?" she asked. "For drugs or something? You said she was high."

"No, no," Stef replied, shaking her head gently. "No it's nothing like that. It's different. I just, I can't explain it. But it's like I should've known her."

Lena sighed as well, now nearly as curious as her wife was. Stef didn't often talk about work like this. Sure, she'd tell small stories about simple situations -nothing that involved danger, because she knew that Lena hated those stories- but Stef had never really connected to a stranger at work like this before.

"I'm kinda worried about her," Stef sighed after a short silence. "She was very defensive. That, on top of the bruise on her face, makes me think that something's wrong. I offered to get her somewhere safe, but she just insisted that she's perfectly fine where she is."

"Do you think it's abuse?" Lena asked, catching on to what Stef was getting at.

She nodded. "I think so. I mean, I've seen it before. Countless times. She just didn't want to hear any of it, though." She paused. "She said she's eighteen," Stef whispered, "but she can't be any more than seventeen. Not from what I can tell at least."

"God," Lena breathed sadly. It wasn't right. She hated hearing about abuse, let alone child abuse. It was just wrong.

"Yeah," Stef sighed lightly, holding her wife a little more tightly. "I just hope she's alright, whoever she is."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys, I just want to say thank you for all of the support. To say the least, I was shocked to have received so many review after waking up, so thank you! I appreciate each and every one of them and I'm glad that you're all still interested in this story. I promise that there is a _lot_ more to come, and I hope that you enjoy.**

* * *

Before anything else, she was acutely aware of the sharp, pounding pain in the back of her head. It was a throbbing, merciless kind of pain that in itself would have been enough for Callie to admit that she was _really_ hurting. She grimaced at the resonating throb, slowly bringing a hand to the back of her head. As she started to move around a bit, she started to wake up as well, which really tuned her in to how much pain she was really in.

Everything hurt. _Everything._ Her side and her stomach were burning, and her chest felt heavy. She turned her head to the side, and it even hurt just to move her neck. She let out a pained groan, moving her other hand to her stomach, and even making a sound hurt, as her throat was dry and scratchy. She still wasn't even entirely with it, and she slowly blinked her eyes open, squinting at the light that had entered the apartment. She couldn't immediately remember what had happened, or where she was, or why she was in pain. It took her a moment to even realize that she was lying on the floor.

It all came rushing back to her when she looked to her left to see Dan lying, unconscious, on the hardwood floor next to her. The drugs. The creep on the street. The cop. Dan beating her. Dan cutting her with the knife. Dan choking her. She immediately sat up, which only caused her mind to spin and her stomach to sting even worse. She couldn't breathe. She was entirely overcome with panic and her heart was beating so quickly that she thought it might just shoot right out of her chest.

She was dead. Well, technically, she was alive. She _should've_ been dead by now, but she'd knocked Dan out before he could make sure that happened. But now she was a goner. There wasn't an ounce of doubt in her mind that Dan would kill her as soon as he had the chance. He was going to wake up sooner or later, and he was going to kill her. It was bad enough that she'd actually fought back, but she'd _knocked him out._ He wasn't just going to be pissed. He was going to be _psychotic._ He was going to beat the living shit out of her, and then he was going to kill her. She knew it.

She had to get away, but she didn't even know how that would work. She didn't have anywhere to go. She didn't have anyone whom she could trust. If she were to leave right now and try to get away from Dan, he'd still find her somehow. He had connections, and if he really wanted to, he'd be able to find a way to get to her. She couldn't call the cops, either. For one thing, she was sixteen. She was a runaway minor with a juvenile record and no living relatives. She would be thrown right back into the foster system, or right back into Juvie for having run away from her previous foster home. Plus, Dan didn't have a record. He was slick. He knew how to cover his tracks and he knew how to turn on the charm whenever it came to convincing people that he was some sweet, innocent guy who could do no bad. Her rap-sheet was longer than his, and if she were to call the cops and if this were to come to trial, she didn't doubt that the judge would believe Dan's story over hers. With her luck, that was just how things went. She couldn't call the cops. She didn't have anyone whom she could trust. She didn't have anywhere to go. Maybe she could just turn herself in. She could walk straight down to the police station, tell them that she was a foster kid who had run away, and she could get herself sent to some other foster family, or to a group home. She wouldn't have to tell them anything about Dan, so she wouldn't have to attempt to press charges, and they wouldn't care about how she'd gotten hurt. With the way the foster system tossed kids back and forth, he probably wouldn't even be able to track her.

She couldn't do that though. She'd spent almost a year in that apartment, trying to keep herself out of the system. She wasn't going to throw that all way. She wasn't going to make putting up with Dan's beatings for a year a useless effort.

As she began to stand up, grimacing at the pain that shot through her body from her injuries, a small slip of paper on the ground caught her attention. It was the officer's card from the previous night. It must've fallen out of her pocket while Dan was hitting her around, she figured. Callie bit her lip for a moment before reaching down and picking it up. Sure, she was probably getting herself into something that would wind up with her getting killed or thrown back into the system, but she had no other option, right?

The music was still playing in the apartment. Dan's playlist of heavy metal and rap was turned up all the way and the pounding bass of the music made her head hurt even worse. She took a few unsteady steps toward the speaker and shut it off.

Callie winced once more as the sharp, relentless sting in her side flared up again. She didn't know how bad the cut was, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. Her shirt, which reeked of alcohol from having hit Dan over the head with a bottle, was red along the side and on the front. She knew that the blood was from the cuts. It wasn't like she'd woken up in a pool of her own blood, though. She'd be fine. She'd live.

She placed a hand on her side as she slowly made her way toward the kitchen. She didn't have a cell phone, and the apartment didn't have a landline. Dan had his own cell phone, but Callie knew that if she were to use it, he'd be able to trace his calls back. She couldn't risk that. With his work, she knew that he had a couple disposable cell phones hidden somewhere. She had to look through a few drawers before she finally found what she was looking for, but after a few minutes she finally found the drawer that was filled with a couple disposable phones, some syringes, and some other small devices that she didn't really care to investigate at the moment. She didn't have much time. Dan would probably wake up soon, and she couldn't be in the apartment when he did.

She pulled out one of the phones, then shut the drawer. If she was going to leave the apartment, then she needed to leave quickly, which meant that she didn't have much time to figure out what she'd need to bring with her. Ever since her mother's passing, Callie had never had much in the way of personal belongings, but there were a few small objects that she'd always refused to let go of.

Everything was already packed, really. She kept the small backpack underneath the bed. Dan wouldn't have ever seen it there, because he didn't clean -that was her job- and he wouldn't have ever really suspected her to keep anything under there. Plus, as crazy as Dan was, he probably wouldn't have actually cared about her having a few small choice objects of her own possession. She always kept everything all together in the bag, though. If the foster system had taught her anything, it was that you could be leaving one home for another without warning at any time at all. She'd learned that always having a bag packed with whatever you needed was vital. So she really didn't have to think about what she'd collect. She just needed the bag. It had everything that she needed in it already.

To anyone else, everything in the bag would've been junk. Aside from a change of clothes, her toothbrush, and the fifty bucks tucked away in of a pocket, nothing inside of the bag would keep her alive. Nothing would feed her, or help her survive the streets, or wherever she was going to wind up. But in her mind, she _needed_ what was in that bag. The necklace that had once belonged to her mother. A Nikon camera that she'd managed to buy herself after saving up money for three years. A few wallet-sized photos from her childhood. A small stuffed rabbit that had once belonged to Jude -when they'd been separated, a social worker had grabbed it and mixed it in with her stuff, probably assuming that it had been hers. Then there was her mother's old bible. The leather cover was worn down, the pages were stiff, and there was a page missing from it -how that had happened, Callie had no clue. Callie wasn't even religious. She wasn't even sure that she believed in God. The book had been treasured by her mother, however, and having it with her always gave Callie a sense of comfort. At least with that book, she had a piece of her mother. She could hold something that made her mother feel safe, and she could at least play around with the idea that her mother was up there, looking down at her.

She pulled the backpack out from under the bed, then glanced toward the dresser on the other side of the room. Callie hadn't looked in a mirror -she didn't want to- but she knew that she probably looked horrible. She didn't really _care_ about how she looked, but she figured if a passerby were to see her walking down the street in a torn up, bloodied shirt, then that would raise some questions. She didn't have time to pick out an outfit, though. She pulled out the middle drawer and dug around for a few seconds before pulling out a sweatshirt that she'd gotten a few months beforehand. She could at least throw that on top of the shirt that she was already wearing.

After zipping up the sweatshirt and pulling the backpack over her right shoulder, she walked out of the bedroom. She had to leave. _Now._ As she started toward the door that led out of the apartment, she glanced back to where Dan was lying on the ground. A fraction of her hoped that he was actually dead. After a few seconds, though, she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest and knew that he was alive, despite how hard she might've hit him with the bottle the previous night. She knew that he'd be waking up any time now, and she pulled the disposable phone out of her pocket as she opened the door.

She looked down at the card in her hand, and with her other hand, she began typing out the number into her phone. It was a long shot, but it was her only choice.

Stef was woken up when she heard her phone start ringing on the bedside table. She let out a frustrated groan, exhausted from the previous night, and rolled over, grabbing the cell phone. It was just after eight in the morning, so Lena and the kids were all out of the house, and Stef really just wanted to sleep in for a little bit. She read the caller ID and frowned as she realized that the call was coming from an unknown number. It was probably a prank caller, or some IRS scam call, or some dumb sales pitch. She debated ignoring her ringing phone, but then let out a sigh as she sat up and clicked the green 'Answer' button. It could also be her mother, or someone from work.

"Hello?" she answered, a little groggy from just having woken up.

There was quick, almost heavy breathing coming from the other end, and Stef considered hanging up under the assumption that it was just some teenager prank calling her, but just before she could do so, a voice greeted her in return.

"Is- is this Stefanie Foster?" It was a girl, that much Stef could make out. She sounded tired, and a little worried. The girl's voice was raspy, and she even sounded a little scared, or hesitant. It was almost like she was nervous talking to Stef.

"Adams-Foster," she corrected, now a little curious. "Yes, this is her. May I ask who's calling?"

"I... uh, I want an out," the girl choked out.

It took Stef a few seconds, but as soon as she realized who was on the other end, she was completely woken up. It was the girl from last night. It _had_ to be.

"Cameron?" Stef asked, trying to keep the shock out of her voice. She hadn't expected the girl to call her. Things didn't usually work that way, especially with domestic violence. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," the girl replied, letting out a shaky breath.

"Okay, where are you, Cameron?" Stef asked, walking quickly up to her dresser and pulling on a pair of jeans.

"I-" she paused, like she wasn't sure whether or not she should actually tell Stef where she was. She'd called her, though, so she clearly wanted help. She clearly _needed_ help. Stef could just go pick her up, bring her to the station, and help to get her somewhere safe. "I'm right on Garnet."

"Alright," Stef nodded, as though the girl would be able to see the simple gesture. "I'm gonna come get you, alright? Then we can head down to the station, alright?"

She didn't respond, and Stef bit her lip. "The station?" Cameron questioned, her voice wavering. "Look, um, actually I think I just overreacted. You don't need to come get me, I'm fine," she said. Stef felt her heart drop. The girl wanted an out, but she didn't want help. Not from the law, at least.

"Cameron, listen," Stef tried as she started down the stairs, her keys in her other hand. "I'm coming to get you, alright?"

"No, no, I'm fine," the girl insisted. "This was a mistake, I-"

"Listen, Cameron," Stef spoke, trying to keep her voice calm but serious at the same time. "I didn't mean to freak you out, okay? We don't have to go the station. But I'm coming to get you, alright?"

She could hear her swallow on the other side of the line, and even Stef knew that her promise was probably a dangerous one. She was getting emotionally involved in something that she wasn't obligated to get involved with, but there was something about the girl that pulled Stef in that direction. Not only did she feel for the child and want to help her, but there was just something about her -something that was missing- and Stef was drawn to her. It was almost like there was a reason -a _real_ reason- why this girl had entered her life.

"I'm _not_ going to the station," Cameron finally said, her voice stone cold.

"Alright," Stef nodded, opening the front door and heading outside. "Alright, you have my word. I'm gonna come get you, no questions asked, and we're gonna get you somewhere safe, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

 **Okay guys, so I know that this chapter's kinda short, but it's meant to be more of a transitional chapter than anything else. There's a _lot_ coming up pretty soon. I've got the whole story mapped out and I'm excited to actually write up the next couple of chapters. Please drop a review if you can, just to let me know what you think of this story, and thank you for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

Callie could feel her heart racing. She didn't know what to do. She had no clue what she was doing. She'd called the cop. She'd called a _cop._ So many things could go wrong, now. She could get sent to Juvie. She could get thrown right back into the system. She could get taken to a group home, which she knew could be even worse than a foster home. Her entire year's worth of trying to keep her out of the system could go to hell. Why the hell had she called a cop? The fact that she felt a little dizzy and sick to her stomach -probably due to her injuries and the pills from the night before- really didn't help with her nerves. Her stomach already felt sick enough with worry, but the nausea only made her feel shittier.

She was leaning against the wall of a run down, sketchy tattoo parlor with the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up over her head when the car pulled up on the other side of the road. It was a white minivan, a sharp contrast to the beat up sedans or old, rusting station wagons that normally passed down the streets in the neighborhood. Either the driver was one of the select few wealthy guys in the neighborhood -which normally meant a pimp or some sort of trafficker- or they had no clue just how dangerous it could be to come to a place like this with a car that nice. People got killed for showing off their wealth.

She glanced over to the driver's window and that was when her worries grew even more intense. It was the cop. There was no walking away from this now. If she got in that car, she'd be playing a game of luck, and Callie had certainly never had luck on her side. The driver wasn't even looking at her, though. She was parked on the other side of the road, right where Callie had said that she'd be. Sure, she'd lied somewhat -she wanted to be sure that the cop wouldn't be showing up in her squad car, or with other officers behind her- but she felt justified in it. She just wanted to make sure that she'd actually be safe meeting up with the cop.

The woman glanced around, probably looking for Callie. It was weird to see her without a uniform, and in a different car. She had short blonde hair, and as she looked around -presumably for Callie- the teen could sense a little bit of what might have even been concern coming from her. While it should have made Callie feel like she was safer -while it should have been a good thing that the woman actually cared about her- it only made Callie more nervous and uncomfortable. She wasn't even entirely sure why. The woman just seemed off -unlike any other person that Callie had ever known- and the lack of familiarity with her behavior was unnerving.

This was a mistake.

Something was bound to go wrong.

She was ready to just turn and bolt away when the woman looked her right in the eye, but within seconds the woman had a look of horrified recognition on her face and Callie knew that even if she were to run, the cop would inevitably catch up to her, especially given her current condition. So instead, she just took a few tentative steps toward the car as the female officer quickly got out, a look of intense concern taking over her features.

...

Stef wasn't even sure what to think. At first glance, she hadn't even recognized the girl. Maybe that was partially due to the fact that the teen had a sweatshirt over her and a hood covering her head, but as soon as Stef saw the fearful but, in a sense, almost hopeful look in the girl's eyes, she knew it was Cameron -if that was really even her real name.

"Oh my god," she breathed, not even sure what to think.

The girl looked like a mess. She had on a pair of ripped jeans that didn't quite look like they'd had holes torn through them when they'd come out of the store. The girl had a zipped-up maroon sweatshirt on -not typically what you'd expect to see someone wearing in San Diego at this time of year- and the hood was pulled up intentionally to shield her face somewhat. Even from far enough away, Stef could tell that it was bad. The dried blood that left a trail from the girl's nose to her chin wasn't even one of the biggest telltale signs of what had happened. One eye was swollen pretty badly, and Stef knew that it would likely just get worse. There were a few minor scratches on the girl's face, and the bruising made her look like she'd come right out of Mariana's coloring book from when the girl had once been going through her "purple phase," as the mothers had called it. Stef couldn't really see any of the other injuries, and while she hoped that there wouldn't actually be any more than what was currently visible, she knew that there were bound to be even worse bruises.

No wonder she wanted in out. Clearly, whatever she was mixed into, she hadn't gotten all of those bruises from "falling down," as she'd said to Stef the previous night when asked about the bruise on her cheek.

God, the bruise from the previous night was nothing compared to how she looked now.

"Cameron," she called as she quickly got out of the car, hoping that the girl wouldn't sprint. The girl looked like a deer in headlights, and Stef knew that if she made the wrong move, she'd probably get freaked out and try to get out of the situation.

To Stef's surprise, though, the girl was already walking toward her. She was walking slowly, her jaw shut tightly, and as she started to cross the street Stef noticed that the girl had a slight limp. The pain was written across her face and it looked like every step was a task for her. Stef walked to the girl's side, trying to keep most of her questions suppressed for now. She didn't need to overwhelm the girl with the "Who did this? When did it happen? Do you need to go to the hospital? Who can I call for you?" questions. Those could wait, at least for a few minutes. For now, Stef's number one priority was to get that girl into the car where they could actually talk and figure out what needed to be done. The kid clearly wasn't an adult. Despite what she'd told Stef the previous night, the officer in her knew that Cameron was a minor, which meant that this situation would be even trickier than most were.

"Come on," she said softly, putting a hand around the teen's back to help her walk toward the car, knowing that the girl was in pain just by looking at her. Cameron tensed up slightly, but she didn't push Stef away.

"Thanks," she mumbled, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were turned toward the ground, and it didn't take much for Stef to know that the girl was embarrassed about needing help, and probably about a lot more.

Once they were at the car, Cameron folded her arms across her chest nervously, taking a step back and glancing at the car. She looked like she wanted to say something -like she had something heavy on her mind- but she kept her mouth shut. As Stef started to open the driver's door, expecting Cameron to follow suit and head to the passenger's side, she realized what part of the issue was. The girl didn't even move, she just looked apprehensive and flustered, almost like she didn't know what to do. She had been the one to call Stef for help, so why did she seem so afraid to actually take the help that was being made available? Why did she look like she needed to be granted permission just to open a car door?

Stef knew that the situation was much more complicated than it seemed. She knew that the girl had been through a lot just by looking at her, and she knew that she couldn't exactly blame her for how fearful she seemed. Maybe all that she needed was some reassurance that Stef actually did want to help her, some reassurance that she was allowed to actually accept the help.

"You can get in, you know?" Stef tried gently, nodding toward the passenger's seat.

Cameron gave her a hesitant glance, furrowing her brow, then nodded, walking over to the other side of the car. The girl still had her arms across her chest almost protectively, and Stef bit the inside of her cheek, wondering just what had happened to the kid and dreading the idea that it might have been much worse than she wanted to believe.

Stef climbed into the car, shutting the door behind her, and the teenager just got into the passenger's side, looking uncomfortable, anxious, and understandably hurt. Stef wasn't sure what kind of injuries the girl had sustained that she _couldn't_ see, but she had a sure feeling in the pit of her stomach that they were bad enough. The girl grimaced slightly as she reached over to shut the door, and Stef didn't quite know what to say, or how to go about helping the kid. Maybe she was getting herself into something that even she didn't know how to handle.

"Cameron," Stef spoke, her voice soft, "I-"

"I just, um, I just need help getting somewhere safe," she interrupted, her voice sounding a little choke. "A motel or something, maybe." Her voice was a little shaky, and Stef let out a sad sigh, feeling a pang of empathy in her heart.

"Absolutely," Stef nodded in confirmation. She didn't quite approve of the idea of the girl staying in a motel, but she would definitely get her somewhere safe, wherever that may be. "But can you tell me what happened, Cameron? I can help, you know. I can make sure that whoever did this to you doesn't get the chance to do it again."

The teen shook her head. "It isn't whatever you're thinking it is," she replied, her voice somewhat dull. "It's not like I'm being abused or some shit like that. I was just in a tricky situation, last night, alright?"

Stef frowned. This girl was already showing to be more than she'd bargained for, that was for sure, but she'd promised to help her and she would hold to that. The teen was just defensive, and fearful, and clearly more aged than she should have been. Stef was a cop and a mother, though, and she had every intention of keeping her word. She was going to get this girl somewhere safe, regardless of the consequences and obstacles. Sure, had Mariana spoken to someone who was offering her help in that manner, she wouldn't have gotten away with it. This girl wasn't Mariana, though. This girl had clearly been through hell and back, and possibly even worse. Manners and appropriate vocabulary were probably the least of her concerns.

"Cameron," Stef sighed sadly, looking the girl in the eyes. "I can't help you in less you tell me what happened."

She looked defeated, now. Disappointed. Hopeless. "You said no questions asked," she replied, her tone desolated. "If you're gonna make me talk, then I may as well just leave."

She started to reach for the door handle, like she was really going to leave -to put herself back in potential danger just because she felt that she couldn't tell Stef what had happened- and Stef felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. The girl was right. Stef _had_ told her that she'd help her, 'no questions asked,' but here she was, practically trying to force the girl to tell her what had happened. Sure, maybe if Stef had seen the girl's physical state before talking on the phone with her, she wouldn't have made that promise -after all, Cameron's injuries were a lot worse than Stef had even imagined that they could be. But, she'd made a promise, and if it meant that keeping it would keep the teen as safe as possible, then she'd do so. It was better than letting the girl keep to the streets of that neighborhood.

"Okay," Stef sighed lightly, nodding. "Alright, no questions asked."

...

Callie wasn't quite sure what she even wanted. Sure, she wanted help -that much was abundantly clear- but she didn't know what kind of help she actually wanted. At the very least, she just needed the woman to drop her off in another neighborhood where she could rent herself a motel room. Sure, she was hurt and she'd definitely be hurting for a decent amount of time given her injuries, but it wasn't like she'd broken her arm or like she'd sustained a stab wound to the gut. She didn't need to see a doctor, and she didn't need to attempt to press charges against Dan -taking any legal action would only get her thrown back into the system or into Juvie anyway. She didn't even know what type of help she'd even expected to get from Stef. She didn't want food, or pity, or for someone to 'save' her. She just needed to be somewhere safe, for now at least.

She was suddenly hit with a short, but intense, wave of nausea. Her head was spinning, her stomach turned upside down, and she felt the bile start to rise in her throat. She held it back, though, and after a few seconds her body seemed to relax. She felt sick, and she knew that a large portion of that was likely because of the drugs that she'd taken the night before, but she also knew that she could hold it down a little longer. She sure as hell wasn't going to throw up in the cops car. That was for sure.

"Can I ask one thing?" Stef asked after a few minutes of silence, glancing sideways at Callie.

The teen let out a quiet sigh, then nodded, figuring that Stef wasn't going to let up anyway. "Fine," she mumbled.

"Are you intoxicated?" Stef asked. It didn't sound accusatory, though. She didn't sound mad. She sounded _concerned._ Like she actually cared.

Callie bit her bottom lip, pretty sure that she knew why Stef was asking her this. After all, she reeked of alcohol. The bottle that she'd smashed over Dan's head had been full, so she'd practically coated herself in the beer when the bottle broke. She hadn't even realized just _how_ horrible the smell was until now. Stef didn't know what had gone on in that apartment, so she didn't know that Callie's beer-like-stench wasn't actually from drinking.

Callie shook her head. "I spilled some stuff onto myself last night," she muttered quietly, a little bit humiliated. She was basically admitting to the cop that she'd at least been around some alcohol, and that she'd made a mess of it on herself. After all, she couldn't tell her the _real_ reason why it was all over her. "It wasn't mine though. The drink, I mean."

Stef nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. The answer seemed honest enough. Callie seemed, for the most part, genuine in her answer. Plus, the girl _reeked_ of alcohol. It was like it was all over her, which Stef knew wouldn't happen if the girl had just had a few too many beers. The teen didn't even appear to be drunk. As much as she knew that she shouldn't trust every word that came from the girl just yet, she believed her.

"When was the last time you ate?" Stef asked after a minute or so of silence.

Callie gave her an odd look, a little baffled by the question and not quite sure why the woman had even asked her that.

"Sometimes yesterday I guess," she mumbled, shrugging her shoulders. "I dunno."

The cop glanced sideways at her, then looked back to the road as she drove. "You look like you could have something to eat," Stef said softly, although her tone was still serious with a trace of authority. "How 'bout Pamela's? It's this small diner just fifteen minutes or so from here. They have the best waffles in San Diego. My treat."

Callie shook her head, tensing up a little uncomfortably. It was weird having the cop offer her something like that. It was odd enough having the cop even help her in the first place, but it was just weird for her to offer to buy her food. Sure, Callie could probably benefit from having _something_ nutritional in her system, but the generosity of the woman next to her only made her feel more uncomfortable. She didn't deserve the woman's help, and she didn't know how she should feel with the officer offering to give her even more than she'd asked for. She wasn't used to kindness.

"No, I'm fine," Callie replied, shaking her head again. "I'm not hungry."

She closed her eyes for a few seconds when she felt her stomach starting to turn a little. She wasn't going to be sick. She couldn't be sick. Not here, not now. She had to control it. She'd gotten this far, and now she refused to do anything to screw it all up. After a few seconds, the nausea passed, and she opened her eyes, hoping that Stef hadn't noticed.

The cop was giving her another concerned and slightly suspicious look, but Callie tried to play it off as though nothing had happened.

"Are you sure?" Stef asked, a tinge of worry in her voice. "You look pretty flushed. You should get something into your system, at least."

Callie shook her head once more, not looking in the woman's direction. "I'm fine," she assured her. "It's just a headache. I'm really not hungry right now."

The cop let out a light, defeated sigh and nodded, although it was clear that she didn't believe Callie. "Alright," she nodded after a moment. "Is there anyone I can call for you, Cameron? Parents? A relative?"

Callie shook her head, closing her eyes once more -this time out of pure exhaustion. God, she was tired. She'd been tired ever since the day her mother had died, but this past year with Dan had been exhausting. The past two days? They'd been draining.

The officer sighed sadly, and Callie could sense the pity no matter how well the woman managed to conceal most of it.

"Siblings?" She tried.

She froze for a few seconds, her mind returning to the past. Sure, she had a brother. There was Jude. But he'd be twelve by now, and she had no way of contacting him, and even if she _could_ get in touch with him, she wasn't even sure that she'd try. She was a magnet for pain and for trouble, and she couldn't bring more of that into his life, wherever he was. If he was even alive. He was gone, and it was just that simple. She didn't have any siblings. Not any that she could reach.

She shook her head again, then, and opened her eyes. The cop was looking at her sympathetically, and it looked like she wanted to say something, but when Callie scoffed lightly she didn't have the chance.

"I'm fine on my own anyways," she replied, not really thinking about the consequences when she answered. "I've been doing this since I was a kid. And like I told you yesterday, I'm eighteen. I'm an adult, which means calling relatives wouldn't really do me much good anyways."

Stef slowed down the car a bit, turning and looking at Callie with deep concern etched into her expression. "Since you were a kid?" She asked, looking for some clarity.

"Yeah," Callie nodded, glancing out the window so that she wouldn't have to look at the officer. "Never really had a permanent home. It's just how things worked out." She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat as she fought off another wave of nausea. "It's not that big of a deal. I mean it could be worse."

She almost laughed, then. ' _It could be worse.'_ Considering how much pain she was in -considering all of the shit that Dan had done to her during the year she'd stayed with him- she wasn't quite sure whether or not it really could have been worse. It was already pretty bad.

She hadn't gone into detail about her life -hell, she'd practically left out all of the detail that there was- but still, it was the most she'd ever told anyone about her life. She wasn't sure why she felt safe enough to tell the cop everything she had -even if she'd lied about her age and her family- but she did. There was just something about the woman that made Callie believe that she could at least tell her as much as she had.

Stef let out a quiet, sad sigh, and Callie didn't bother opening her eyes. All that she'd see would be sympathy, and she didn't want that. She didn't need to see other people feeling bad for her.

Calle clenched her jaw, feeling her stomach doing flips inside of her. She took a deep breath, hoping to fight it off, but she could tell that she wasn't going to be able to keep the sickness suppressed for much longer. It was only getting worse.

"Pull over," Callie suddenly blurted out, her eyes flying open as she began to unbuckle her seatbelt.

"What?" Stef questioned, looking at her with confusion and worry, glancing at the seatbelt as Callie started to remove it. "What's wro-"

"Just _pull over!"_ Callie shouted, knowing that if the woman didn't do what she was asking her to do, neither of them would be enjoying the rest of the car ride. She needed to get out of the car to breathe, otherwise she was going to be sick as hell.

Stef started to realize why Callie was in such a rush, and she pulled off on the side of the road. Callie didn't waste any time hopping out of the car, and she'd hardly stepped off of the road before she found herself bent over, emptying the contents of her stomach. God, she felt sick. She was dizzy, too, having jumped out of the car so quickly, and even as she was busy throwing up, she wasn't oblivious to how much it actually hurt to move around. After the beating she'd received from Dan, pretty much everything hurt.

It took her a moment to actually realize that Stef was rubbing her back gently with one hand while holding her hair back with the other. She wasn't familiar with that kind of touch -the harmless, and even kind, sort of touch. While it was unusual and somewhat unnerving for her, it was also comforting. She felt an odd sense of warmth that she couldn't recall having felt since Jude, and she wasn't sure whether or not that should worry her or relieve her. She took a few deep breaths, her hands on her knees as she stood off the edge of the road.

"Just breathe, love," Stef said softly, her voice sympathetic and also understanding. "You're alright, just breathe."

After a minute or two, Callie let out a shaky breath, straightening up. "Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed and also pretty sure that Stef would be at least a little bit pissed off. She'd already been being an inconvenience to the woman, but now she'd probably only made it all worse.

"No," Stef replied, shaking her head dismissively and looking Callie in the eyes with a small smile. "There's nothing to be sorry for, it's okay. Do you think you're alright to go back into the car now?"

Callie simply nodded, and when Stef mentioned something about possibly going to the hospital, she tensed up a little. "No," she replied firmly. "I'm fine, honest. The last thing I need right now is a hospital bill." Stef put up a bit of a fight as they drove, insisting that Callie see someone about her injuries, but finally stopped after a few minutes. Callie remained silent for a while after that, closing her eyes and trying to focus on her breathing. She still felt like shit, and her stomach was still turning. She knew that a lot of it was because of nerves, but she also knew that a majority of it was probably from the drugs that she'd ingested the previous night. She wasn't in _true_ withdrawal -it wasn't like she was an addict- but she was definitely suffering from the post-high effects. She remembered it from the last time. The headaches, the stomach aches, the nausea. It all made sense.

"Alright, we're here," Stef finally said after a short time.

Callie opened her eyes, expecting to see some run down motel or a shelter or something. She didn't even know what to say, or how to keep her heart beating, when she opened her eyes to see that the car was parked in the driveway to a _really_ fucking nice house. She was filled with confusion, and as much as she hated to admit, worry. This was a house. It was probably the woman's house. What the _hell_ had she brought her here for?

"What- why are we _here_?" Callie stammered, turning to give Stef an incredulous look. "This isn't a motel, Stef, this is-"

"It's my house," Stef nodded, answering Callie's unspoken question as she started to open her door. "I don't feel comfortable setting you up in some motel in a strange neighborhood, and if you're not going to see a doctor, then you should at least let me try to help you make sure everything's alright," she explained as she got out of the car.

Callie stayed where she was, in shock and in concern. This wasn't right. It was a lot to ask for the cop's help, but _this?_ This was way too much.

"Come on," Stef called, looking back at Callie.

Callie climbed out of the car for a moment, slinging her backpack over one shoulder and gripping the strap tightly as she closed the car door and followed Stef up the walk-way. What if this woman had a family? The house was big. There was a basketball hoop out front. There was probably at least one kid who loved there. What if she had a husband? Would he be okay with Callie's presence? Probably not. Especially considering how trashy she already looked without the bruises. What if this was just a way for the cop to gain her trust before calling in some backup to get handcuffs on her? There were so many reasons why she shouldn't walk into that house.

"My kids are all at school right now," Stef said casually as she unlocked the front door, stepping in. "They should be gone for a few more hours, so you won't have to worry about them. I'm gonna go and see if there's anything upstairs that I can get for you. Painkillers, bandages, whatever you need, alright?"

They were inside, now, and Callie was looking around, wide-eyed. Damn, the house was nice. The living room was to her left. There was a couch and two chairs, and a TV. A piano sat in the corner of the room. She could see into the kitchen. There were chairs around the island. Stef's family was probably pretty big. The stairs were just ahead of her, and Callie could see some of the hallway.

"You can hang out in the kitchen for a bit," Stef said, looking Callie in the eyes. "If you're hungry, there's some food in the fridge. Take what you need."

Stef started up the stairs, and Callie swallowed the lump in her throat, not even quite sure how to respond. Stef didn't even look back at her to make sure that she wasn't eyeing up the place. She didn't try to warn her that if she were to try to steal something, she'd wind up locked up. She didn't even try to convince Callie not to just run and leave. It was almost like she trusted Callie. Almost.

Callie stepped awkwardly into the kitchen, not quite sure what to do. Sure, she was starving, but she didn't feel well enough to eat anyways, and despite Stef's offer, it felt like it would be wrong to just take food from her. She hadn't asked for this much help, and now she felt more and more like an inconvenience to the woman. All that she'd wanted was for Stef to help her get to a motel, or to some place safe where Dan probably wouldn't be able to find her for a while. She hadn't expected the officer to actually take her to her house, or to offer her anywhere near this much help, and she knew that she couldn't ever repay the woman. She didn't have much money -and the money that she did have, she needed in order to sustain herself. She didn't have a job. Sure, she could probably scrape up a job working at a diner, whether it would be as a dishwasher or a waitress, but that was a long shot. There were other ways she could get money, too. She wasn't exactly fond of the idea of _how_ she could get the money, but she'd seen people like that on the streets. She'd seen Dan bring some home. She knew that it was still a _way_ to get money.

She shook her head, gritting her teeth. That wasn't ever going to happen. No matter how bad things got, she would _never_ let that happen. She couldn't.

She glanced around the kitchen, frowning lightly as she looked at the fridge. There were some drawings on the refrigerator door, held up by magnets. They looked old for the most part. There was a calendar hanging up as well, and Callie couldn't help but notice how clustered it looked. Hardly any of the dates were empty. The family must have been a busy one, likely with a decent amount of people. And Stef and her husband must have cared a _lot_ about their family, considering everything that was put up on the fridge. There was an old, slightly weathered picture of two kids of what Callie could assume was Latin descent -they were probably about twelve when the picture had been taken- on the corner of the fridge. They looked similar, like twins, and Callie furrowed her brow slightly. Stef definitely wasn't a Latina, so the kids were either adopted, or Stef's husband was someone of Latin descent. Callie wasn't quite sure, but even seeing the pictures was enough to sting Callie's heart a little bit. This house wasn't just a building with four walls and a roof. Even from what little she had seen, she could already tell that this house was a home. Something that Callie had never really had. She couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

"That's Mariana and Jesus," Stef's voice spoke up from behind. Callie jumped, turning around to see Stef giving her a warm smile as she set some stuff down on the island in the middle of the kitchen. "My wife and I adopted them a few years ago."

"I, um, I was just looking around," Callie said, looking at Stef somewhat nervously. She hadn't meant to pry, or to act nosey. Stef probably didn't want her poking around the house.

Stef shook her head. "Feel free," she replied with a light shrug. "I don't mind."

Callie bit her bottom lip, nodding. She stood there for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, but then Stef spoke out. "You wanna sit over here so I can look you over real quick, make sure you really don't need to go to the hospital?" Stef asked, although it seemed more like a statement than a question. She pulled out one of the tall chairs by the island and opened the first aide kit that she had brought downstairs with her.

Callie didn't particularly _want_ Stef to help her with her injuries -for one thing, she could handle herself on her own, and for another thing, she knew that Stef wouldn't exactly react positively to just how bad the bruises probably were. She nodded, though, and climbed up onto the chair, biting her lip with light worry. She felt embarrassed, and weak, and still like an inconvenience to the woman.

"So, um, you said you have a wife?" Callie asked, hoping to make small talk to break the awkward silence that she knew would probably fall over them. She hadn't intended it to sound rude, or ignorant -she had absolute respect for whomever other people loved, regardless of gender- but as soon as she'd said it, she realized that it might not have come across as casually as she'd intended it to.

"Yep," Stef nodded with a small, far away smile, like she was thinking about her wife. "We've been together for around ten years, and we just got married last year."

Callie nodded, feeling relieved that Stef hadn't seemed offended by her question at all. Stef's answer had made it more understandable to Callie, too, why the woman had adopted the two kids on the fridge.

"Cool," Callie just nodded, taking in somewhat of a deep breath. She swallowed the lump in her throat, chewing on her bottom lip, which was already a little swollen. She eyed the first aide kit as Stef pulled out some of its contents. Adhesive bandages. Gauze pads. Antiseptic wipes. Some other materials that, for some reason, only made Callie nervous.

"You know," Stef sighed lightly after a few seconds, noticing how Callie's eyes lingered on the medical supplies, "if you went to the hospital, they'd probably be able to help you a lot better than I can."

Callie shook her head, her jaw set. "I'm fine," she insisted. The look in Stef's eyes told her that the cop didn't believe her. "Just a little sore," she finished after a moment.

Stef bit her cheek, nodding although it was clear that she wasn't as gullible as Callie might have wished her to be.

"Alright then," the woman breathed, looking Callie in the eyes. "Let's see what we can do to help that, yeah?"

Callie just nodded, shifting her gaze to the floor.

While Stef wiped off the blood on Callie's face with a wipe, the girl couldn't help but let her mind travel back to the previous night. To the drugs. To how Dan had basically tried to fuck her in front of all of his friends. To walking down the street and running into the cop like the dumbass she was. To what had happened when she'd gotten back 'home.' Dan had been ready to kill her. He'd pulled out the knife. He'd threatened her life. He'd held the blade to her throat. He'd been about to kill her. She should have been dead by now, but she wasn't. But she was still in danger. She was in danger of being thrown back into the system, or into Juvie. She was in danger of what Dan was going to do once he finally found her -and she knew that he probably would. Yesterday had been bad enough. She was hurting everywhere, and her injuries were definitely worse than a couple of scratches and bruises on her face. She felt sick, probably because of the ecstasy.

Her stomach lurched again, unexpectedly, and before she knew it, Stef had led her to the thankfully empty kitchen sink. Callie hadn't thought that she'd had anything left in her to throw up, and after a few seconds, that proved to be the case. She dry heaved, Stef's hand once more on her back, and her head was spinning. She could feel herself sweating as well, and after a short time she found herself feeling much more exhausted than she'd felt just moments ago.

Without realizing, she brought her right hand up to her stomach, although it wasn't because her stomach was sick. The cuts that Dan's knife had given her the previous night were stinging from moving around, and the throwing up and dry-heaving certainly didn't help with the pain.

"Fuck," she gasped quietly, wincing as it hurt even worse to touch the wound. Dan had certainly done a number on her. That much she was sure of.

Stef furrowed her brow as she looked at the girl, who was now practically clutching her side. Something was wrong, and while the girl may have just been throwing up, there was definitely more to the situation than that. She was wincing in pain, not just because she felt sick.

"Let me see," Stef spoke softly after a few seconds. Her voice was gentle, but it was also firm. Even if Callie wanted to argue, it wouldn't be worth it. Stef was serious about helping the girl.

"I'm just a little scratched up," Callie mumbled with a shake of her head, wiping her mouth with a bundle of napkins that Stef had handed her.

"Let me see."

Callie let out a sigh, turning her eyes away from Stef as she unzipped her hoodie. Stef's eyes went wide as she saw the blood on the shirt that Callie had on under the sweatshirt. The shirt was cut up, and while the blood on the shirt seemed to be dry, the sight was certainly concerning. She held back a gasp, knowing that it wouldn't make the situation any better for either of them. She clenched her jaw as Callie started to lift up the bottom half of her shirt, and Stef found that there was more to be concerned about than just a couple of 'scratches.' There was a decent amount of bruising on Callie's side -new bruises, and even traces of old ones. Stef didn't need to ask her how they'd gotten there. She'd seen enough to know that the girl was being abused. It just broke her heart to see how bad it really was.

Then her eyes fell onto the large cut that ran down the girl's side. It ran from her rib cage straight down to her hip, and while it didn't appear to be deep enough to cause any serious damage, Stef didn't doubt that it was painful. There was another gash across the girl's abdomen and her jaw dropped slightly as she imagined just how bad the teen's situation really must have been. The cuts looked deliberate -calculated, even, as though whoever had done this to her had intentionally done in in a way that wouldn't kill her, but would still leave her in a lot of pain. The girl's situation was much more dire than Stef had previously imagined, and she didn't even know what to say to her. She was grateful for the small suture kit in the first aid bag, then, and took a few minutes to stitch up the wounds before looking up to the girl, who was now seated on the tall chair by the island in the middle of the kitchen.

"Cameron," Stef sighed softly, looking up to the girl, whose head was turned away so that she wouldn't have to see the injuries or the look of pity on Stef's face. "We should really get a doctor to look at your injuries. I know it-"

"I'm not going to a fucking _doctor_ ," Callie answered coldly. She opened her mouth to say more, but Stef straightened up and crossed her arms across her chest.

"What are you so afraid of, Cameron?" She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly. Her voice was caring, but it was stern. The cop in her was outweighing the mother in her, now.

Callie clenched her jaw, her glare softening somewhat to reveal a hint of sadness and even worry as she swallowed down the tears welling up inside of her. What was she afraid of? God, if she were to answer that question, Stef would probably drag her down to the station in a heartbeat.

 _Going to jail,_ she thought silently. _Getting arrested because I ran away from my last placement_ _. Getting arrested for the drugs. Getting arrested for associating with Dan. Getting arrested for lying about who I am. Or even worse, instead of going to jail, getting tossed right back into the foster system. Being forced to live through even more abuse -or worse- for another two years until I can age out of this broken fucking system. Getting put into a group home. There's a lot to be afraid of._

 _"_ Nothing," Callie replied instead, folding her arms as well as she let the shirt fall back down to cover her injuries.

"What are you afraid of?" Stef repeated, this time more slowly and with a lower, but gentler, voice. "You called me so that I could help you," she continued softly. "So let me help, love."

Callie shut her eyes, then, biting her swelling bottom lip and trying to keep her composure. Stef's words shouldn't have meant this much to her -they shouldn't have made Callie _want_ to tell the truth, but there was just something about the woman that made her walls chip just a little bit. Maybe it was because Callie hadn't seen this kind of kindness or generosity in years. Maybe it was because she'd hit her head the previous night and was now a little out-of-it. Or maybe it was just the woman herself. Maybe it was just Stef. But it didn't make sense to Callie. It didn't make sense why the woman's words had brought tears to Callie's eyes.

She opened her eyes after a few seconds, staring blankly at the officer in an attempt to to stay strong -to hold back the tears that were so close to falling. She wanted to tell her. No matter how much she knew that would backfire her, Callie wanted to tell her. She wanted to tell the woman that her name _wasn't_ Cameron, and that she _wasn't_ eighteen, and that she _wasn't_ just some teen who 'never really had a permanent home' because of family issues. As much as it killed her, she actually wanted to just tell Stef who she _really_ was. To tell her about the countless foster homes that she'd been in. About her brother, who was god-knows-where by now. About _Dan,_ and what he'd done to her this time. She wanted to tell the woman everything, despite the fact that it was against her better judgement.

But she couldn't, because if she was wrong, and if this woman wasn't as trustworthy as Callie wanted to believe, then she'd probably wind up behind bars.

"Do you have a bathroom?" Callie asked instead, her eyes blank as she showed no emotion, not even reacting visibly to Stef's question. Sure, she was changing the subject. Avoiding her problems. But she wasn't going to answer Stef. She wouldn't risk it, and she wanted to spare herself the disappointment. Sure, Stef was helping her, but she didn't care about her _that_ much. No one did, no one could, no one would. It was that simple.

Stef let out a quiet sigh, clearly knowing that she wouldn't be able to change the girl's mind at telling her what was really going on, and nodded. "Yeah, there's one upstairs. You can get yourself cleaned up if you'd like. I can grab you something you can change into, yeah?"

She offered the girl a small, gentle smile, but Callie just bit her lip. "You don't have to do that," she replied, shaking her head lightly. "I'm fine with what I've got, really."

Stef raised an eyebrow, turning to give Callie an unconvinced look as she led her toward the stairway. The girl's shirt was torn up and bloodied, not to mention the smell of alcohol that came off of it. Her jeans didn't seem incredibly comfortable, and the only other piece of clothing that she had on her was the sweatshirt, which was already worn out enough.

"Cameron, _I_ would feel more comfortable if I knew that you had something to wear that's not torn up," Stef sighed sadly, nodding toward Callie's shirt. She knew that it might have come off as a little bit harsh, but that wasn't her intention. She was just being honest. Callie clearly wasn't 'fine' with what she had.

Callie just turned her gaze to the ground as she followed Stef up the stairway. She swallowed the knot in her throat, her mind going back to the previous night for a few seconds.

 _It all happened in an instant. She could feel the pressure of the knife against her side increase just slightly. She recognized the sinister glint in his eyes, a glint that wasn't new but still chilled her to the bone. She could feel his hold on her neck grow a little tighter, depriving her of the oxygen that she so desperately needed. Her eyes widened and she started to call out his name, ready to beg him to stop, but by the time she'd even gotten a sound out, the blade had already torn through her shirt and was beginning to tear through her flesh. He slid the knife down her side, his eyes fixed on hers the entire time, like he was trying to see every emotion in her eyes -the fear, the pain, the hopelessness. He got off on that kind of stuff. He got off on a lot of stuff -Callie knew that without a doubt. Dan was a cruel, sick, disgusting son of a bitch. She could feel the blood as it started to seep out of the new cut, and he snickered. He was enjoying this._

"There's a towel hanging on the rack in there," Stef spoke, snapping Callie out of her thoughts, "and I'll be back in a minute or two with some clothes that you can change into after you're done, alright?"

"Yeah, um, sure," Callie nodded, still a little out of it. She just couldn't manage to stop thinking about everything that had happened. God, last night had been horrible. One of the worst nights she'd had in a long time, even with Dan. "Thanks."

She walked into the bathroom, but didn't do or say anything until Stef showed up a few minutes later holding a pair of light grey sweatpants and a loose-fitting black t-shirt. "Here you go," Stef said, offering her a small smile, as if to tell her that it wasn't a bother at all lending her the clothing. "Take as long as you need. I'll probably be downstairs when you're done, but if you need anything at all, just call for me. Alright?"

Callie nodded, muttering another thank you -although this one was more genuine- and then shut the door when Stef began to walk away. She locked it behind her, then let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes and leaning against the door after turning on the shower. She needed a moment to be weak. Just _one_ , brief moment. Yesterday had been hard. Today had been hard. Her _life_ had been hard. She was just _tired._ Of everything.

She let out a choked whimper, rubbing the back of her hand underneath her eye to wipe away the tears that were beginning to fall, and she couldn't help but wince at the sting of pain that the action had caused when she touched her face. She didn't know how bad she looked, as she hadn't seen a mirror yet, but she knew that it was bad enough. After a few minutes, she stood up, then walked toward the mirror, her frightened curiosity getting the best of her.

She dropped her jaw slightly at seeing her reflection.

"Damn," she breathed, a little taken back as she brought her fingertips to her bruised, scratched up cheek. Dan really had done a number on her. It looked a lot worse than she'd initially thought.

One half of her face looked a lot worse than the other half, her left eye swollen pretty badly but not yet so horribly that she couldn't see with it. There were small scratches pretty much everywhere, along with one rather noticeable gash at her forehead. Her nose was pretty swollen too, but it wasn't broken. At least she hoped that it wasn't. Both of her lips were swollen by now, still a little bloodied. She didn't even want to know how bad it must have looked earlier in the day when Stef had picked her up, while the all of the blood was still there.

Her eyes fell down to her shirt. It really was torn up. There were two large tears in the shirt from where Dan's knife had cut her, and blood pretty much surrounded those two tears and had soaked into a large remainder of the t-shirt. There were a few other small holes, probably just from how rough things had been the previous night. Of course Stef didn't want her wearing the shirt. It was horrible.

She swallowed nervously, the fear starting to get to her even more as she began to pull the shirt off over her head. She didn't have any clue how bad the bruising would be along her abdomen and chest, and a large part of her didn't want to know. But she needed to. After all, this was her body. She needed to know what damage had been done to her. She pulled off the shirt, leaving herself with just the sportsbra and jeans on. She had been right. The bruising around her abdomen and stomach was pretty intense. There was lots of purple. Lots of blue. Some brown and yellow from old bruises that were finally fading. She could make out the shapes of handprints, too, and took in a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She didn't need to think about that right now. She let her focus shift to the actually gashes in her side and stomach. Now that they were stitched up, they actually didn't look too bad. She hadn't seen them when they were open, but by the still red-stained skin and by how much they stung, she knew that it must have been bad. _Really_ bad.

She discarded the remainder of her clothing, then, and she stared into the mirror. She couldn't help but notice just how broken she looked. Just how tired she looked. She felt empty, and as she stared into the mirror, she really didn't recognize the teen looking back at her. Her skin was pale, which made the bruises stand out much more. She looked older -at least mentally- than she really was. There were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, and her expression was emotionless. She let out a heavy sigh. The bruising. The pale skin. The cuts. The scars. The handprints. She wasn't a self-pitying kind of person, but looking at herself, she knew that _no one_ deserved this. Not even her. The purple ring around her neck, from the many times that Dan had put his hands around her neck the previous night, looked more like an accessory than her actual skin. The bruising was bad, and dark, and she brushed her fingertips against it, acknowledging the pain. She looked to her chest. There was bruising there as well, from the hits that she'd endured that night and many nights prior. There were scars on her chest as well. Fading, yet still distinct, handprints on her breasts. She started to slip back again, her mind betraying her and taking her back to the past, but she caught herself and turned away from the mirror, not even recognizing the thick tear that ran down the right side of her face.

"Don't think about it," she whispered to herself, stepping into the burning water of the shower, her voice shaking as she fought as hard as she could to keep her mind in the present. "Don't think about it."

...

 **Okay. So I know it's been nearly a month since I've updated, but life and medical stuff and people and everything else has gotten in the way, so I've had limited time to write. I'm hoping that this insanely long chapter makes up for the wait, though. I actually kinda like this chapter, so I'm hoping that you all do too. I couldn't find a place to actually end the chapter, and I initially planned on it going farther than this, but I ended up choosing this as the ending point. There will be a _lot_ coming in future chapters, trust me. I have the whole plot line of this story written out and I'm excited to write more. Hopefully you guys will continue to enjoy the story through it all. Also, I'm sure you're already aware, but this is a heavy story. It's 'hurt/comfort,' so of course we're going to get to the comfort, and to the point where Callie, and other characters, are in a better place. But it is a _hurt_ /comfort story, and before things can be _good,_ the characters have to actually recover. They have to dredge up the past. They have to accept it. This is no happy-go-lucky story, because life doesn't work like that. I'm going to try not to overload you will what might be 'heavy,' but I'm also not going to shy away from what Callie _really_ needs to recover from. Anyways, thanks again for all of the reviews, I genuinely appreciate it, and I'd love if you could tell me what you think of this chapter. Thanks again, love you all, bye!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey everyone, I'm super sorry about the long wait. Some medical stuff has gotten in the way of my ability to write. I'm still totally dedicated to this story though, don't worry! I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but this story isn't anywhere near it's end so there's a lot more waiting. Anyway, hope you enjoy.**

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Stef let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through her hair as she dialed Lena's number for the third time within the hour. Her wife was busy, she knew that. Stef knew that she couldn't expect her to be able to answer her phone at any time during the day, and she knew that Lena was probably busying herself with her project or in a meeting. It was already after twelve. School would be over in about two hours. If Lena were to come home to see a clearly beaten -and still possibly violent, although Stef wasn't about to jump to any conclusions- teenager in her house without any kind of warning, things wouldn't go very smoothly. The least Stef could do was leave Lena some kind of warning that something was going on. She wasn't about to tell Lena all about the girl over the phone, but maybe the two could at least get the kids out of the house after school so that the mothers could 'chat' about the 'situation.'

"Hey, love," Stef spoke into the phone, leaving her wife a voicemail because she hadn't been able to get in contact with her. "I, um, have something I need to talk with you about when you get home. It's nothing bad... just something that kind of... came up. Nothing's wrong, though. Uh, if there's any chance that we can get the kids out of the house after school, I think that might be for the best. I know Mariana said she wanted to stay over at Emma's tonight, and B can probably stay at his dad's for the night."

She let out a sigh, knowing that she was being vague and that Lena would probably worry that something was seriously wrong. They didn't often need to get the kids out of the house, and in the instances that they did, there were usually arguments. Or tears. Or both.

"Like I said, nothing's wrong. We just need to talk about something that came up." She paused, then decided that there wasn't really anything else that she could say. "Call me back or text me when you can. Love you."

She ended the message, then, and set the phone down on the table, letting out a heavy sigh as she bit her lip. Lena wasn't going to be pleased to find a stranger, let alone a beaten teenager whom Lena already knew had been high the previous night. Sure, the girl wasn't going to be staying for long. If anything, it would probably be just for the night so that Stef could find her somewhere safe to stay. Still, having the girl in the house wouldn't just be something that's 'no big deal.' An injured teen, whom Stef still planned on convincing to go to the hospital, was in their house. An injured teen, who was probably being abused and who used drugs, was in their house. Even if it would only be for a night, she was still there, and the factors that played into it all were pretty serious.

Stef grabbed her lap top, then sat at the kitchen counter, searching online for anything that might be able to help the girl. There were a few hotels in the area that weren't too expensive. Stef didn't even consider looking into motels or any nearby shelters -those places weren't safe for anyone, especially a teenage girl who was clearly vulnerable due to her physical state. The girl, Stef knew, wouldn't be able to pay for a hotel room right away. She'd need a job to get anywhere near enough money for a few weeks' stay at a hotel. Stef could pay for a room for the girl for a while, though, to help her out. If the girl _really_ was as old as she'd claimed to be, then she could always try to rent out an apartment, but Stef doubted that the teen was any older than sixteen or seventeen.

After a while, Stef glanced over at the digital clock on the oven and frowned when she saw the time. Cameron had been in the shower for a little over an hour now. Sure, Stef knew that she should give the girl some time and some space, but considering the girl's state, it worried her how long the teen had been up there. Stef didn't know the teen's state of mind, or her history, or _just_ how serious her injuries were. What if she was hurt enough that her mind was set toward suicide? There were a few capsules of pills underneath the bathroom sink, along with razors for shaving. Stef knew that she was jumping to conclusions, but the girl _had_ been up there for a long time.

There was also the likely chance that the girl was also just taking her time because she'd been through a lot. There wasn't a doubt in Stef's mind that the girl probably wanted some alone-time. Time to recover. Time to accept whatever had happened.

Then again, Stef didn't know the girl. She didn't have enough information to assume anything correctly.

She gave it another fifteen minutes, then headed upstairs.

Callie's eyes were burning from the silent tears that she'd shed while sitting in the tub. The water that was spraying from the showerhead was cold now, but she didn't even care. She was numb to it anyway. She was numb to everything.

Her knees were drawn up against her chest as she sat in the tub, staring blankly ahead. She didn't know what to feel, or what to think, or what to do. She didn't know where she would be a day from now. Stef might've already called social workers. Or cops. Or anyone. If she hadn't, Callie knew that the woman wouldn't want to keep her around for any longer than a day or two. After all, she said they had kids. Who would be dumb and naive enough to let a strung out, sketchy teen stay at a house full of kids? Certainly not a cop.

Callie didn't know what to worry about. Should she worry that social workers would get their hands on her? That she'd wind up right back in the foster system where she'd be tossed around, thrown from household to household until she was _actually_ old enough to get away from it all _again?_ Or should she worry about the fact that Stef was a cop? About the fact that at any moment, the woman could get her sent straight into a jail cell? Then there was Dan. She'd always be worrying about what he could do to her. God, he was probably sending people out to find her already. He had a lot of goons who worked for him. Lots of bastards who knew the streets. Lots of guys who would be keeping an eye out for her. Sure, Stef's neighborhood seemed peaceful enough, but what if someone had seen Callie get into her car? What if someone had seen Stef dropping Callie off at the apartment the previous night and had put the pieces together? What if Dan already knew that Callie had gone with a cop? What if-

Callie's head jerked up when there was a knock on the bathroom door and for a brief moment, she was completely alert.

"Cameron?" Stef's voice called from the other side of the door. "Are you alright, love? You've been in there for a while."

Callie relaxed slightly when she realized that there was nothing to be alarmed by. "Yeah," she choked out, her voice hoarse. "Yeah I'm fine. I'll be out in a few minutes, sorry."

"There's no rush," the woman replied warmly from the other side of the door. "Just wanted to make sure you're alright. I'll be downstairs, just come and get me when you're done."

Callie gnawed on her bottom lip, letting out a quiet sigh as she heard the woman start to walk away. Stef didn't seem to have any bad intentions. She didn't seem weary of having Callie in her house. She didn't seem like she was mad at Callie for even having put her in this position. She just sounded like she cared, and that threw Callie off. People didn't do things like this for her. People didn't treat her like she matter. That was just something that Callie had grown used to, and now that someone actually did seem to care, she didn't know how to act or how to think. She wasn't used to this.

Stef really did seem like a good person. She seemed like someone with a heart of gold. She seemed like a _mother._ Not the kind of mothers that Callie had seen while she'd been in the system, but a _real_ mother. One who probably loved her kids to death and would never even think to do any of them any harm. And that hurt, because Callie knew that she'd never have that. She couldn't. Not with the things she'd done. Not with the system. She just wasn't meant to have one.

She could at least hope that Jude had been given that opportunity, though. She hadn't spoken to Jude in years, but she could at least hope that he was happy. That he'd been accepted into a family. A _good_ family, maybe even with a mother who seemed as caring as Stef. As long as she could hold onto that hope -as long as she could imagine that _something_ good had come out of the system and out of her and Jude's separation- she'd be alright. That would give her hope. That would give her a reason to keep going, even if there was a risk of the system, or of cops, or of Dan.

There was _one_ thing that she could hope for, and that was her brother. Even if she never got the chance to see him again.

She climbed out of the tub, wincing as her side stung while doing so, then grabbed the towel that had been hanging on the rack. She shut off the water after wrapping herself in the towel, biting her still-swollen lip once more.

She just needed to get through the rest of the day. She just needed to make sure that Stef wouldn't force her to go to a hospital. She just needed to make sure that she kept to her story and that she didn't reveal too much about who she was. Stef seemed trustworthy for the most part, but she was a cop, and Callie knew better than to underestimate a cop.

After drying off, she threw on the clothes that Stef had brought out for her. The sweatpants were a little baggy but they were comfortable, and the t-shirt was loose fitting so it didn't put any pressure on her bruises or the cuts on her abdomen. It was a comfortable outfit, and Callie figured that Stef had intended for it to be that way.

She looked in the mirror one last time, her eyes falling to the ring of bruises around her throat. She brought a hand up to it, letting her fingers graze the colored, tender skin, and let out a sigh before walking out of the bathroom.

"Thanks," the teen muttered quietly as Stef set a mug of tea down in front of her.

"Yeah, no problem," Stef replied softly, offering the kid a small smile. She took a seat at the counter across from the girl. "We need to talk about how I'm gonna help you here, Cameron," she stated, her look sympathetic while her tone suggested that she was serious.

Callie just nodded, her eyes fixed on the tea in front of her. "Alright," she agreed quietly. "Yeah, okay." She met Stef's eyes.

Stef gave her a thankful smile, glad that the teen was finally agreeing to something. "My wife's gonna be home soon," she began to explain, "and I'm gonna have to talk through all of this with her before anything is definite, but I think she'll be willing to agree with me on what's best at the moment... I want you to stay here for tonight, just so I can be sure that you're okay without seeing a doctor."

Callie's expression grew somewhat alarmed, but before she could say anything, Stef continued.

"I know you said you don't want to go to a hospital," she explained, giving no room for argument, "and I can't force you to go there, but I also don't want you getting yourself hurt. So here's the plan: you stay here overnight, you get some rest, and if those cuts on your waist don't look any worse, along with your other injuries, then we'll start looking to what comes next. _But_ , if you're in any more pain or if your injuries look worse by tomorrow morning, we're going to the hospital and you're going to see a doctor. That's how this is working, alright?"

Callie swallowed the knot in her throat as she contemplated what Stef had said to her. She really didn't have any other options. She needed help, she needed an out, and Stef was the only way that she could get that, but she also knew that going to a doctor would probably only wind up getting her into even more trouble than she was already in. Stef sounded serious. This was an ultimatum. Callie could either accept what Stef was offering or she could walk out of that house and risk losing any chance at getting out of the life she was mixed into.

"Okay," Callie agreed after a long minute of tense silence.

* * *

 **Alright so I know the wait was long and I know this chapter's not the greatest, but it's what I managed to pull together over the past few days so I hope it at least doesn't disappoint. Life's gotten in the way of things and that's all I can really say. Anyway, I hope y'all had a good Thanksgiving (if you're in the US) and I hope you're all doing well.**

 **Preview into the next update: Lena comes home, and her reaction may not be quite as warm as Stef is hoping it'll be.**

 **I'm starting a new thing too. There's way to much hate going around right now, and most people are struggling with _something,_ so I'm gonna start leaving a little message at the end of each update, cause I think we all need a little bit of light in our lives, no matter who or where you are. So here's the first one:**

 **Life is too short to live by the "what if"'s. Life is too unpredictable to live by the "maybe next time"'s. It's too complicated to live by the risks. Help that stranger cross the road. Give that guy sitting on the sidewalk the five dollars that might help him get his only meal that day. Give that old friend whom you haven't seen in 3 years a call. Because there isn't always going to be a "next time." There will always be a chance to make a difference in the world, but there might not always be an opportunity to change someone else's. Do what feels right. Do what your heart and your conscience are urging you to do. Live with love. Live with laughter. Make someone else smile, and I can guarantee you that you'll find yourself with a grin on your face as well. If you can make another person live, laugh, and love, even if it's just for a moment, it's worth the risk.**


	9. Chapter 9

Callie was sitting cross legged on the living room couch when the front door opened. Stef, who had been sitting on the couch across from her, stood up immediate, an anxious but almost hopeful expression on her face. Callie's heart sank. Stef obviously hadn't cleared this with her wife beforehand. The woman -Lena, if Callie remembered correctly- would probably take one look at the teen and either kick her out or call the cops to come and get her. Or she'd just tell Stef to bring her straight to the station.

"Hey, Love, I-" Stef started calmly, taking a step toward the now open door.

"Hey, I'm sorry I got held up in traffic dropping Brandon off at Mike's," a soft and concerned voice entered the house and Callie held her breath nervously as a tall, dark skinned woman stepped through the doorway. She looked just as anxious as Stef, not having noticed Callie yet. "What did you need to talk about? Is something wrong?"

Stef bit her bottom lip as if searching for a proper answer while Lena gave her a confused look, shutting the door behind her. Once it was closed, Stef cleared her throat and turned her eyes toward the living room.

"Lena, this is Cameron... the girl I told you about last night."

The darker woman turned around and her eyes went wide as they fell upon the battered teen. Her expression was filled with horror, shock, genuine concern, confusion, and a hint of anger all at the same time, and Callie, not knowing what else to do, gave the woman a small wave.

"Uh, hi," she said slowly.

Had she actually been raised by anyone and had her side not been killing her, she probably would've at least stood up or offered the woman a hand shake, but that wasn't how life had been geared toward the girl. Manners were the least of her concern -sure, she had respect for the new woman and especially for Stef, but she wasn't going to go out of her way to be the perfect stranger.

Lena looked at the girl for a moment, understandably stunned, then offered the girl a tight smile, knowing rationally that she should at least be kind to her until she knew the full story of what was going on.

"It's nice to meet you Cameron," Lena replied after pulling herself together, "I'm Lena, Stef's wife." She stepped forward, offering the girl her hand, and the teen shook it hesitantly, her eyes skeptical and her body tense.

"Stef, uh, can I speak with you for a moment? In the _kitchen_?" Lena asked, turning to give her wife a glare that demanded an explanation.

Stef, with her arms hands on her lips and a knowing look on her face, nodded slowly. She knew what to expect. Lena had clearly been caught off guard by this and it was going to take some _serious_ convincing get her to even consider letting the teen stay at the house overnight. Lena's heart was too big for her own good, though. As sticky as the situation was, Stef couldn't imagine that Lena would actually want the poor kid to sped another night out on the streets or in danger.

"Yep," Stef replied quietly, biting her lip.

Lena gave Callie a small, tight smile as she followed Stef into the kitchen, and the teen just let out a heavy sigh, casting her eyes to the floor. She could make out hushed whispers coming from the kitchen and Callie's heart sank. Stef's wife wasn't going to want her around the house. The women had children, they probably had their own happy-go-lucky life, and Callie was nothing but a strung-out, sketchy teenager who was only bound to bring trouble into the couple's perfect life. She was an idiot to have even thought that she'd be able to get help from Stef. She was an idiot to have gotten her hopes up.

"Stef, we have _four children,_ " Callie heard Lena say sharply, sounding like she was trying to keep the conversation quiet enough that the girl wouldn't hear anything. She could hear it though, and Lena's words just made her heart sink even further into her chest. "Not only that, but you _know_ that I've been more swamped with work than ever, and Brandon's going to be going to college soon, and we-"

"Lena, I never said this would be permanent, I just-"

" _No,_ Stef," Lena responded, her voice a little louder now. Her voice cracked and Callie frowned slightly. Lena _really_ didn't want her in the house. The woman stopped, taking a breath, then spoke again, her voice softer but still loud enough for Callie to make out what was being said. "Stef, I know you want to help this girl, and I want to too, but we can't save them all. We _can't._ How do you even know we can _trust_ this girl? We have to take care of _our_ children, Stef, and I will _not_ have someone violent or dangerous inside of this house."

"Lena, I don't think she's violent," Stef sighed. "I think she's just-"

"Okay. Okay, maybe you're right. But Stef, what has she told you so far? What do you know about her that can give me any reason _not_ to be concerned about the fact that this girl -who you _know_ was least on something last night- is in our house?"

Stef sighed and Callie shook her head light, biting her cheek. Lena was right. Callie really hadn't given the female officer any information that might actually make her look like she _wasn't_ dangerous.

"Nothing, Lena," Stef responded quietly. "Alright? You're right, I hardly know _anything_ about this girl, but I _really_ don't think that she is a danger to us _or_ to our kids. Lena, love, you saw her. You saw those bruises. That girl has _clearly_ been through more than either of us can imagine. Just one night, that's all I'm asking. One night so I can find somewhere safe for her to go, and then-"

Callie immediately tensed up once more as she heard the sound of the front door opening, but neither of the mothers seemed to notice that someone was coming into the house. The teen couldn't help the worry that temporarily seized her body as she watched the door open. It could be cops. It could be social workers. Hell, it could even be Dan if he'd managed to find her that quickly. Regardless, she needed to keep her guard up. She needed to be ready for anything and for everything. She stood up, regardless of the fact that the quick movement was painful, and looked at the door with her jaw clenched.

"Hey moms," the voice of a young teenage boy called out before the door had even opened up halfway. "Noah has youth group today so I'm home early."

She didn't recognize the boy's voice entirely, but there was something about it that made her heart suddenly start beating faster. Maybe it was just the way he'd spoken, the slight inflections that otherwise she wouldn't ave noticed, but it made her breath catch in her throat, and when the teen stepped forward, no longer hidden by the door, she wasn't sure if it she should believe what was right in front of her.

The boy turned his head, noticing the figure of someone standing in the living room, and his jaw dropped as soon as he saw the girl who was standing next to the couch. His jaw dropped and he stared at her in shock, not even recognizing her at first. It was definitely her, though. There wasn't a doubt about it.

* * *

 **I know it's been almost a month, but I've had stuff going on. I'll try to update again soon. I think you all know where this is going, I left it so it's pretty obvious just who "he" is.**

 **Also, I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas/Chanukah/whatever you might be celebrating. For anyone who doesn't even celebrate anything specific, I hope you all have happy holidays.**

* * *

 **Food for thought: Appreciate the people around you. Appreciate your family -whether it's a family by blood or a family by choice- and don't take the people who love you for granted. Life can end at any moment. One minute we're here, the next we're not, and life is unpredictable. Appreciate the people who love you, appreciate the people who you love, and hell, appreciate the people who sometimes you can't stand. We've got this one world, this one life, and for the most part, we're all in it together. Spread love. Spread Laughter. Spread life.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay guys, I just want to start off by letting you all know that I have _so much_ planned out for this story. I've had the plotline written down for months, and now and then I keep adding to it/taking away some parts, but I just have so much stuff that I want to pack into this story, and some stuff that I really wish I would have included up to this point. Anyway, I just wanted to say that to reassure you all that I'm definitely not giving up on this, even if my updates seem really spaced out.**

 **Also, I really want to include a lot of the less-prominent characters in the show, even though this _is_ an AU scenario. I'm planning on including almost everyone, so that includes Rita, AJ, Noah, Nick, and maybe even Aaron if I can fit that into here. I'm not going to drift this off into a romance novel where there's this huge love triangle between AJ, Aaron, and Callie at all, but I want to include everyone, even if it's in ways that aren't _extremely_ significant. Anyway, yeah, that's my little ramble there.**

 **Here's the next chapter!**

"Jude?" Callie gasped quietly, her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him, completely lost for words.

He didn't look the same -not really- but it was definitely Jude. He looked so much older now, and he was taller, too. There was no mistaking those dark, innocent eyes, though. Even with the confusion and shock that filled them at that moment, they were just the same as they had been years prior.

"Oh my god, Callie," he blurted out, suddenly snapping to it when he heard her speak.

He moved toward her, and what happened next could only be explained by the notion of unconditional love. The girl stepped forward, opening her arms wide, and the teenage boy rushed toward her, wrapping his own arms around her instantly. He buried his face in her shoulder and suddenly she forgot about how much it hurt to stand or to move or even to breathe.

"Oh my god," she choked, squeezing her eyes shut as she held him tightly.

Stef and Lena looked on from the kitchen in absolute confusion, disbelief, and surprise. They were each stunned, not quite sure what to make of what was occurring right before their eyes, and after a few seconds, Lena took a step forward, looking ready to intervene. She wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but she did know that the girl who was hugging her son was an addict whom the family didn't _really_ know anything about. Stef caught her wife's arm, then, realization hitting her immediately.

Lena looked to Stef, confused, and Stef just looked her wife in the eyes. "It's Callie _,"_ Stef tried to explain, her voice low. Lena, still overwhelmed with everything that she'd suddenly been forced to deal with within the past fifteen minutes, just shook her head lightly, not comprehending exactly what Stef was saying to her. " _Callie,"_ Stef explained in a quick, hushed voice. Lena's eyes widened as she realized what was going on. "Jude's _sister._ "

"Oh my god," Lena breathed out, a hand flying up to cover her mouth as the two looked back to the siblings, who were still holding each other tightly.

The teens both had tears running from their eyes, and neither of them really wanted to ever let go of each other again. After three years of not knowing if the other was safe, they were finally there together again. After three years lacking any sort of communication, any sort of reassurance that the other was alright, they were in each other's arms. By some incredible coincidence, they were together. Callie was clutching her brother tightly, whispering "oh my god" a few times as she held her brother in the embrace. Jude held her just as tightly, not uttering a sound as tears streamed silently down his face. The mother's just looked on, shocked and not even knowing what to do in that moment.

Callie didn't even notice the couple as they watched with awed expressions, not that she would have cared. Somehow, she was with Jude. _Jude._ Somehow, the universe had thrown her and her brother back together after three years of them being entirely separated. She'd lived -for three years- with no knowledge of where he was, or who he was living with, or if he was even alive. For three years, she'd lived with absolutely no way of contacting him and with no way of knowing _anything_ about him. The last of those three years, she'd spiraled down enough to wind up doing drugs and drinking and tolerating a horrific amount of abuse. Her uncertainty -her lack of any kind of knowledge about her brother's state and her loss of hope in ever even finding him again- had driven her to self-destruction. Her hopelessness had been a major catalyst for her moving in with Dan, and especially for her allowing him to treat her as poorly as he had. She'd had nothing to live for -she had lost faith in finding her brother, the one person she cared about- and that was a large part of why her life had gone to absolute hell. She didn't have a reason to live, she she hadn't cared enough about herself to actually try to leave her fucked up situation until Stef had offered her a _real_ way out. Now, though? Now, Jude was in her arms. She had him. He was alive, and he was _right there_. Hell, it was too incredible for her to even believe. A colossal part of her felt that if she were to let go, he'd be gone. That none of this was real, and that if she were to pull away, he wouldn't even be there. She didn't want to let go. She didn't want to lose him again. She just wanted to hold her brother in that tight embrace and never leave his side again.

A few minutes later, though, she did pull away. Her practically-parental instincts kicked right back in -just like the always had when she'd been with him years prior- and she placed her hands on his shoulders, bending down slightly so that she was at eye-level with him, still overcome with emotion. She looked him right in the eyes, and while she couldn't hold back the emotional smile that was still on her face, or the next tear that fell from her eye, her gaze was still laced with concern.

"You're okay?" She said, looking him up and down for any kind of bruise or sign of harm. "You're alright?"

Her eyes scanned him quickly but thoroughly. She knew what to look for, she knew what screamed abuse or neglect, because she'd seen it and been through it enough times just on her own. He looked fine, though. Great, even. He was taller than she remembered, and he looked well-fed and clean and entirely unharmed. Not only were his clothes nice, but they looked _new,_ and the shoes he wore even looked expensive. There was an iPhone poking out of the pocket of the jeans he had on, which honestly threw Callie off a little bit. Not only did he look well taken care of, but it even looked like he was getting more than just the basic necessities that any person needed.

"Yeah," he replied, still looking stupefied as he grinned widely. "Yeah, Callie, I'm great." He laughed slightly, still not believing that his sister was standing right in front of him. "Stef and Lena," he said, still smiling widely, "they're _great."_

Callie glanced at Stef and Lena, finding herself even more choked up. She didn't say anything, but there was an unquestionable, powerful amount of gratitude shining in her wet eyes as she looked at the mothers. These people -whom she knew practically nothing about- were clearly treating Jude incredibly well, and just the innocent, joyous look in her brother's eyes was enough to tell her that he was safe in their home. That they cared about him and treated him well. She only looked at them for a few seconds, but the meaning in her glance was enough for them to know how she felt. She was thankful.

"Good," Callie replied, her voice cracking slightly as she turned back to her brother. "I'm _so_ glad you're okay," she breathed as she pulled him in for another hug, shutting her eyes tightly as she held him close.

The moment of relief passed when Jude pulled back after a minute or so. The smile that had been on his face just moments ago was replaced with serious concern as he looked his sister up and down. The worry and the grim expression on his face drowned out the relief and joy that had been there previously, and he looked her square in the eyes, an unwavering determination and concern in them.

"What about you?" He asked, although it was clear to everyone standing in the room that _Callie_ wasn't alright. "What happened?" His eyes fell on the bruises on her arms, then to her black eye.

Callie's jaw dropped slightly and there was no mistaking the absolute panic in her eyes as soon as he actually acknowledged her poor physical state. She sucked in a silent, worried breath, breaking eye contact with him as she glanced immediately over to Stef, the only person in the room who she knew _actually_ had a good idea of what might've happened to her. A moment later, though, she shut her mouth and looked back to Jude, giving him a weak, insincere smile as she tried to appear more calm. He didn't need to know what had happened to her -hell, no one _really_ did- and while deep down she knew that Jude would be able to see past it, she still figured that she could lie. He didn't need to know what she'd been through, or what kind of person she was. That wouldn't be fair to him.

"I-" she hesitated for half a second, trying to think of some sort of plausible lie that she could tell her younger brother. "I just got into a car accident," Callie fibbed, waving it of like it was nothing. "I'm fine, Jude," she insisted when he gave her a silent, doubting look. " _Really."_

He gave her a hard look, still not appearing convinced. "Callie, wha-" he started, only to be interrupted by his sister.

"Jude, I'm _fine,"_ she repeated, giving him a somewhat more believable smile as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Just come here," she said softly, shaking her head lightly as she wrapped him into an embrace once more, placing her hand on the back of his head as she held him close. "I missed you, bud," she whispered.

She heard him let out a quiet, almost defeated sigh, then he nodded lightly, wrapping his arms around her as well. "I missed you too..."

Another brief moment passed, and Stef and Lena shared an almost worried glance with each other before the siblings pulled apart. Neither knew exactly what to expect. After years of Jude not knowing where his sister was, or if she was even alive, here she was, literally right in front of them, but the situation wasn't exactly a bright one. The girl had clearly been through more than any teen -any person- should ever have to go through, and neither of the moms knew what they would be getting themselves into if they were to help her.

Of course, they were _going_ to help her. Even Lena, before she'd come to the realization that the girl was Jude's sister, had been ready to tell Stef that she'd be willing to help the teen out, despite obvious risks. Just before Jude had walked in the door, Stef had been explaining to Lena what she'd wanted to do. She'd been insistent on at least letting the girl stay for the night -which Lena had initially opposed- and she had a plan to find the girl somewhere safe after a day or two. When the blonde mentioned getting the girl a motel room or finding some sort of shelter for her, though, Lena found herself concerned for the girl herself. It would be dangerous to let the girl -especially given her physical condition- stay at a sketchy motel, and Stef knew how horrible the conditions could be at shelters, along with what so many young girls in shelters were often forced to face. Just before Jude had walked in the doors, Lena had given in, telling Stef that while it wouldn't be permanent, the girl could stay for at least a night or two.

Now, though, neither of the mothers were entirely sure of what they were getting into. Were they relieved to know that Jude's sister was alive? Absolutely. Were they grateful for the fact that this meant they _did_ have a reason to trust the girl? Without a doubt. Both mothers still knew, however, that the situation wasn't going to be all black and white. The girl had told Stef the previous night that she was legally an adult, and while Stef was still almost entirely sure that the girl had lied about their age, the fact that the teen was just barely even sixteen years old made a _huge_ difference in how things would have to be handled. The girl would have to talk to the police, regardless of what she wanted. Now that Stef knew that she was _Jude's sister_ , she was determined to get the girl to see a doctor, which she knew Callie would argue against. Callie was not Stef and Lena's daughter, but she _was_ the sister of their son, and neither of the women even needed to communicate for them each to know that they were going to be sure to get Callie's injuries checked out. The rest -the issues with the system, and with pressing charges against her abuser, and with figuring out how they would deal with her substance abuse- would have to be discussed later.

The siblings eventually pulled apart, and Jude looked over at his mothers with a wide grin on his face, his eyes filled with absolute joy. "How did you find her?" he asked with a curious, and still surprised, laugh. "I thought you said that-"

Before the boy had even gotten the question out, Stef had noticed the look in the girl's eyes. It was a pleading look, and it didn't take much for Stef to understand the girl's wishes. Of course Stef couldn't tell Jude how she found Callie. She couldn't tell her son that she'd found his sister drugged up, running down the streets in one of the most dangerous areas in the city. She couldn't tell him that Callie _hadn't_ been in a car accident and that she'd been facing obvious abuse. Not yet at least. And she sure as hell couldn't tell Jude that his sister, who had lied about her name and age and everything about her, had called her in a moment of pure fear for her own life. He would _never_ need to know about just how badly she'd _really_ been hurt. At least now that she'd cleaned herself up, there wasn't any blood on her. The bruising was bad enough, but at least the dried blood had been washed up. Now that she was changed into sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, she didn't smell like alcohol anymore -something which Stef still wasn't sure about- and she was no longer wearing a bloodied, ripped shirt. Jude wouldn't need to know about any of that.

"I was the responding officer to the accident," Stef interrupted before Jude could even finish his question. There was no mistaking the short -but intense- look of relief, and even gratitude, that flashed through Callie's eyes when Stef stuck to the girl's story rather than telling Jude how they'd _really_ managed to get the teen to the house. "I, uh, I thought she looked a lot like she does in that picture you've got of you and her, so I asked her for her name, and here we are."

The mother gave her son a warm smile, hoping that he'd buy it. Sure, she felt somewhat bad for lying to him -and for claiming credit when she hadn't even been able to place who Callie _really_ was until Jude had already done so- but the kid was twelve years old. He didn't need to know the truth.

He grinned even wider, looking back to Callie with bright eyes. A moment passed, then Lena spoke up for the first time since Jude had even entered the house.

"Alright, well, I know you're _really_ excited to see your sister," she started, unable to hide the slight nervous tone in her voice from Stef, "but do you think you can head up to your room for a bit while we talk to Callie?"

He looked a little disheartened for a moment, then Stef gave him a small smile as well. "She'll be right down here when we're done," she added. "Then you two can catch up and Mama and I will make us all some dinner, yeah?"

He gave his mothers a small, agreeable smile, nodding lightly. "Yeah, sounds good," he agreed with an innocent smile.

Callie gave him a small, almost sad smile as he gave her another hopeful look before heading quickly up the stairs. Her smile faded as soon as he was out of sight, though, and she turned to the mothers. She swallowed the knot in the back of her throat, crossing her arms nervously as she glanced between the mothers, whose obvious concern was balanced out between the two of them. Lena looked concerned for the most part, and even a little bit sad as she looked at the battered teen. Stef had the same look of what neared pity on her face, but there was also a little bit of relief in her eyes, branched off of the fact that she actually knew who this teen was and at the fact that the girl was _Callie._

"So what now?" She asked, bitting the corner of her swollen lip as she eyed the two women hesitantly.

* * *

 **Okay, so yeah, this took forever for me to upload, but I have good news. After the next chapter or so, I'll be hitting the point where I _really_ have the rest of this story all mapped out. The past few chapters have been harder to write because I haven't known _exactly_ what I want in them, but for a large portion of the rest of the story, I have some _really_ intense stuff planned. So please feel free to review or follow or whatever.**

 **Additionally, I live in like Ohio and it's too cold for me guys, I can't stand winter.**

 **Treat each other nicely. It doesn't hurt anybody, and it'll do you more good than harm.**


	11. Chapter 11

"I know you don't want to," Stef tried to explain to the girl as the three of them were seated in the living room, "but you have to go to the hospital. _As soon as possible._ I'm also gonna call my chief, explain the situation to her, and I'll see if I can take you down to the station tomorrow morning so we can see what we can do. Alright?"

A look of anger and genuine fear crossed the girl's face and she gave Stef a crazy look, like she still couldn't understand what the woman had been trying to tell her for the past five minutes. " _What the hell?"_ Callie argued, raising her voice. "You told me that I wouldn't have to go unless-"

"Callie-"

"I am _not_ going to a doctor," she hissed, clenching her jaw as she stared daggers at the woman. "They won't be able to do anything for me anyway, so there's no point in going. I'm _fine."_

Stef closed her eyes, letting out a strained sigh as she bit her lip. The girl's hostility and absolute reluctance to even go to a doctor was starting to get aggravating, and a part of her wondered if the girl would _ever_ agree to do what Stef was telling her to do.

Lena spoke up for the first time now, her voice a little cold as she gave Callie a look that meant serious business.

"You _are_ going to a doctor," she insisted seriously. "And this isn't something that's up for discussion. You are _injured,_ and you need to have a doctor look you over to make sure that there are no serious injuries. I don't know _what_ you and Stef discussed," she glanced sideways at her wife for a moment, then looked back to the teen, "but this is how things are going to go, now. You are going to the hospital, and then tomorrow, Stef is going to take you down to the station so that we can figure out what's going to happen next."

Callie closed her eyes for a second, turning her face toward the ground as she took in a shaky breath, struggling to choke back the knot in her throat. After a few seconds, she looked back up at the wives, who, despite how stern they were being at the moment, very genuinely seemed to care.

She couldn't go to a hospital. It just wasn't an option. She'd seen doctors enough times before. Usually, aside from giving her a couple of painkillers, they'd never actually been able to do anything to help her. They'd mention previously fractured bones that had healed in a way that showed that they hadn't actually been treated properly. They'd mentioned drug use. They'd seen fading bruises, and the occasional cuts. They'd seen split lips and signs of "past abuse" and everything else that Callie _already knew about_. In all that, they'd never actually been able to _help_ her. They'd suggested phone numbers, people to call, organizations that might be beneficial to her if she were 'in a dangerous living situation.' Aside from that, though, they'd never really helped her in any way. They could also potentially call the police. They could get her into more trouble than she was already in. If they somehow managed to figure out who she was, they could call her emergency contact, who was probably still that drunk bastard she'd had as her last foster father. The last think she needed was to see _his_ face again. If the police were to question how she'd gotten hurt, they'd only make things worse. Sure, she wanted to believe that she was free from Dan now, but deep down, she knew that it wasn't that simple. If he were to find out that she'd talked to thepolice _again,_ she'd just as well be dead.

"This isn't the first time I've been a little bumped up _,"_ Callie spoke slowly, now sounding choked up as she thought about the repercussions that a hospital visit could bring. "I've been fine every other time, I'll be fine now _."_ She took another breath, her leg bouncing up and down as she tried to compose herself.

"Bumped up?" Lena asked, a sad, somewhat shocked look crossing over her face as she looked at the sixteen year old with deep sympathy. There was a look of confusion there too, like she couldn't understand what Callie was telling her. "Callie, this is more than just a couple of 'bumps' and bruises. You're _hurt."_

Callie gave the women a hard look, her eyes glazing over for a moment. She could understand why the women couldn't see the situation the same way she did. They had no clue what she'd been through, what she'd lived through. To them, this might've looked horrific, but to her? To her, it wasn't really anything too new. Sure, this was the worst she'd had it in a long time, but it wasn't the worst she'd _ever_ had. She _was_ in bad enough shape, though, and she knew why it probably surprised the women to know that the intense bruising and slashes on her abdomen weren't exactly the worst injuries that she'd sustained in her still short life. She just bit the corner of her swollen lip, swallowing the lump in her throat as her mind drifted off just momentarily. She'd had worse than this, so she could handle this.

She looked Lena straight in the eyes, and for a brief moment, there was nothing but raw emotion inside of them.

"It happens," she shrugged, exhaling sadly. "I know I'll be fine," Callie continued as she lowered her head, "so there's no use taking me to see a doctor."

Lena let out a soft, sad sigh as she looked at the girl. "Callie, _we_ would feel a lot more comfortable if you would just let a doctor look you over. I know you don't want to go to the hospital, but you _need_ to..." she paused, tilting her head slightly as she gave the teen a sympathetic look. "And I'm sure Jude would feel a lot more comfortable if he knew that a doctor had actually checked you out, too." A few seconds passed, then Lena let out a quiet breath. "We want to help you, Callie."

The girl was looking down, biting her bottom lip as she ringed her hands. Her apprehension was clear. The mothers didn't know exactly _why_ Callie was so reluctant to seek out medical help, but they figured it had something to do with her past in the foster system. The mothers -Stef more-so than Lena- had some knowledge of the homes that Callie had been in throughout her life. Stef had done some digging around some time ago, and she'd seen the reports of abuse, or of neglect. She'd also seen other victims of abuse before. She had a fairly good idea of how fearful many were of actually going to a doctor, or to the police, or to _anyone_ who could actually provide help. Many victims felt as though it was dangerous, or that they would wind up getting themselves into even more trouble. And sometimes, that was the case. This was different, though. This was _Callie -_ this was _Jude's sister-_ and Stef had every intention of protecting the stranger from any form of trouble that might come her way. No matter what.

"Okay," Callie finally agreed after a tense moment of silence. The woman had a point. Even though she hadn't seen him for four years, Callie knew that Jude was a worrier and that he really would feel a lot better if he knew that she'd seen a doctor. Plus, it'd probably make her story about the car accident more believable, which she desperately needed. "Okay. Yeah, fine. I'll see a doctor." Both the mothers exhaled with relief, and Callie opened her mouth again before either of them could speak. "But you guys _have_ to make sure Jude believes the whole 'car accident' thing. _Please._ "

The women exchanged a hardly-hesitant glance, each nodding softly to each other, then Stef gave Callie a small, sad smile. "We can do that," the short-haired blonde replied, a small, odd look of gratitude in her eyes.

Callie, suddenly overcome with emotion and partial relief, looked directly at her. "Thank you," she whispered as she pressed her palms together nervously, her voice a little shaky. "He uh, he can't know what happened," she choked out, her voice cracking. "He can't."

She let out a trembling breath, squeezing her eyes shut as she turned her face toward the ground and away from the mothers. She held her hands tightly together, squeezing them as she willed herself to remain intact. She had to keep herself together, she couldn't break now. At the same time, though, she didn't even know how to feel. Fear was definitely consuming her, as she had no idea where her life was headed now, but at the same time, she was also grateful for the mothers' willingness to stick to the story. She was overwhelmed, unsure of whether she should feel threatened by the fact that she would have to talk to the police and to doctors, or relieved by the fact that she was actually somewhere relatively safe. For now.

She knew one thing for sure. Jude _couldn't_ know about how she'd gotten hurt, or where she'd been for so long. She couldn't let that happen to him. Her brother, despite everything that he'd been through in life, did not deserve to ever know what _she_ had been through. He didn't need to know about the previous foster homes, or about Dan, or about all of the things that had happened to her and all of the things that she'd done. If he were to know _any_ of that, he'd never look at her the way he had just moments ago. He wouldn't know _how_ to look at her. He seemed happy, now, and she couldn't take that away from him. She couldn't take away the innocence that she'd still been able to see in his eyes just moments ago. That would break him, and it would break her.

She took in a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, and looked up at the women.

"Let's go, then."

* * *

By the time Stef and Callie were leaving the hospital, it was nearly midnight. Callie, now sporting a splint on her nose and a thin strip of medical tape over one of the cuts on her forehead, was staring absently out the window, and Stef couldn't help but think back over everything that the doctor had told her. He'd taken a few X-rays just to check for any fractures or breaks, especially in her ribs, and while he'd told Stef in private that there didn't appear to be any recent breaks, he'd mentioned that it appeared as though there were a handful of poorly-healed past injuries. That didn't come as much of a surprise to Stef, who knew for a fact that the girl had faced, and had still been facing, abuse. She still couldn't stop thinking about it, though. The girl was sixteen years old, she'd been through foster home after foster home, and while Stef hadn't really gotten much out of her, it was obvious enough that the child had faced enough trauma for a lifetime.

Yet, having the teen in the car with her was also some form of comforting. While Stef had never met Callie before, she had heard so much about the sister of her son. The mothers had taken Jude into their lives just over two years ago, and within that timeframe, they must have heard Callie's name at least a few times every day. Even recently, Jude would smile now and then and make a comment about how Callie would have liked something or about how something even just slightly reminded him of her. Callie might not have known Stef, and Stef might not have known the current Callie all too well, but the blonde certainly knew the Callie that Jude so often talked about. She knew that the brunette was intensely protective and caring for her younger brother, she knew that the brunette would sing Jude to sleep on difficult nights, and she knew that Callie had a heart of gold that no one ever really saw. She knew that Callie loved Jude, and that Callie was a good person. From the stories that Jude had told, Stef didn't doubt that Callie was _still_ a good person.

"Jude really loves you, ya know," Stef spoke softly, her voice interrupting the almost comfortable silence that had set in the car. She glanced over at Callie, sending the girl a warm smile as she spoke genuinely. She didn't miss the way that Callie, even in her tired state, immediately straightened up a little bit. "He talks about you a lot."

Callie's heart hurt, but for the first time in forever, it was a good kind of hurt. It was some odd sense of happiness, or relief, or solace that she had never felt before.

"He talks about me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Every day for the last two," Stef nodded warmly, "and it's a new story every time."

Callie felt a knot grow in her throat, and she closed her eyes and rested her head against the seat with a small smile remaining on her face. Jude talked about her. He thought about her. He remembered her, and from what Stef had to say, he remembered her in a good light.

"Two years?" she breathed out, feeling oddly peaceful despite her physical predicament.

"Two years," Stef repeated proudly. "Mariana and Jesus' social worker reached out to us one day and told us he had a good kid who needed a home, and as soon as your brother walked through our front door, we knew he was family."

Stef smiled radiantly, remembering the day vividly. It was one of her fondest memories, and she let out a small, content sigh.

"He's a good kid," Callie responded quietly but proudly as well. The day really was beginning to catch up to her, and she released a slow yawn as she started to slip even farther into her tired state. "I'm glad he has you guys. He deserves people who love him."

Stef glanced sideways at Callie for a brief second, her smile fading slightly as she viewed the exhausted girl to the right of her. Callie's head was lulling slightly to the side, and the blonde knew that the teenager needed rest. It had been a long day for everyone involved, but Callie indisputably had it the worst. She just hoped that tomorrow would be better, and hopefully the rest of the days that followed. After all, the brunette was no longer a stranger to Stef, or even to Lena. Callie was Jude's sister, and if Stef had any say in the matter, she would soon be her daughter as well.

* * *

Wow, it sure has been a while. I've had a crazy year and a half, and I guess I kind of faded away from this story for a while. I've been feeling a bit more motivated the past few days, though, and I'm hoping to get back into this. I never want to abandon a story that I feel passionate about, and this is certainly one of those stories. I hope you all can bear with me through my random updates, even a year and a half later, and I hope that you're all doing well and are still interested in this story! I'm thinking that I'll get another chapter up soon, so let's hope I manage that.

Also, after rereading the whole 40,000 words of this story tonight, I realized that in an earlier chapter, I noted Jude's current age to be 12. I really don't know what that's all about, because I'm actually planning on him being 14 in this, so just a heads up, he is 14. Not 12.

Much love, NF


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